


Teach Your Parents Well

by laudatenium



Series: There Is a Voice That Calls To Me [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arc Reactor, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gen, Genetic Engineering, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Misunderstandings, You hear your future children talking to you, just go with it, not in a bad way, sorta mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laudatenium/pseuds/laudatenium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On your eighteenth birthday, the voices of your future children start speaking to you.  They help you through your life, to help you have the best life before they are born.</p><p>But of course, in the lives of Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, these things are never straightforward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Past Is Just a Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Titles from “Teach Your Children” by Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young.
> 
> I've seen a lot of Tumblr promps for AUs about hearing your soulmate's voice in your head. This evolved from that.
> 
> Basically, you hear the voices of your future children from the day you come of age to the moment of their conception. They help guide you through your life, and help you find your spouse/partner/ect.
> 
> PS: If you're confused about which twin's saying what, Peter says "Dad" and "Pops", while Maria says "Daddy" and "Papa".

_Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey._

_Seriously?  You’re gonna go with that?  It’s the Depression and he’s poor, he’s lucky to get oatmeal or porridge or something._

_So what am I supposed to say?  FREEDOM, it’s the Fourth of July, Independence DAY, LET US THROW OFF THE YOKE OF BRITISH TYRANNY-_

_Okay, I get it, you don’t have to quote the Revolutionary Monument from Lexington, chill._

_That’s very rude considering the circumstances, Peter._

Steve continues examining the inside of his eyelids, wondering why there was a sudden deluge of chatter in his mind.  One male, deep enough to be reassuring to a causal listener, but somehow pitched higher in a way that implied constant indignation bordering on affection.  The other female, pleasantly low, but also pitched higher, and sounded both energized and exhausted at the same time.  Her tone was loving.

 

The inflections they had, their vocabulary, and their pronunciation were slightly different than what he usually heard, so he supposed these voices were like something from the future.

 

Steve finally connected the voices to the day.

 

_You’re my future kids, aren’t you?_

_Hey, Pops_ the boy, Peter, said.

 

_Yay, it’s your birthday, let’s sing –_

_No._

The girl let out a frustrated huff.  _I was_ gonna _sing the national anthem, or maybe “Born in the USA”.  Wait, that’s not out yet-_

_What’s your name?_ Steve sent before she could go off on a tangent or the two of them got into it again.

 

_Peter Parker._

_He knows that already, he was asking for_ mine _, Spiderass.  Maria Antonia, but Peter couldn’t – won’t be able to? – pronounce the “ma” when we were – will be? - little, so most of the time I’m Ria._

“REE-uh?”  Steve aloud, hoping he got it right.

 

_That or just Ri.  Doesn’t matter, you usually just pronounce the whole thing.  Or you call me “sweetheart” or “starling” or one of the many numerous terms of endearment in your arsenal._

Steve breathed deeply, trying to avoid crying or something else that would leave him embarrassed.  “Peter and Maria,” he said, trying to contain the giddiness welling up inside.

 

_Technically, I should go first, I’m twelve minutes older than him-_

_Don’t start this again._

_You’re twins?_

_Yup,_ they sing-songed in harmony.

 

“Wonderful,” Steve found himself laughing in joy.

 

 

 

“Hey, happy Independence and birthday.  Open up.”  Bucky was hammering on the door.

 

“Just a minute,” Steve hadn’t stopped grinning since he had woken up.  He pulled the door open to admit a smiling Bucky.

 

 _Is that Uncle Bucky?_ Peter wondered.

 

 _He looks so different_ Maria said, sounding slightly awed.

 

“What?  How is he different?”

 

_More . . . sad._

 

“Who’re you talking to?  Wait,” Bucky sat himself at the kitchen table, kicked his feet up and leaned the chair back on two legs.  “Your kids?  I always knew you’d have them.  How many?  Did you name your firstborn after me?”

 

_What would I be named?  Jameisa?  Jamie?  Okay, that’s an okay name.  Just not a name for me._

_Plus, Bucky would have gotten into a pissing contest with Rhodey over which one they were honoring._

_That’s why I was named after Granma, and you were named something random._

_“Peter” is a good name!  It’s not that common anymore, but we’re not normal-_

 

“Uhh, Maria says she and Peter were not named after any friends.”

 

_Pops, don’t lie._

_He’s not lying.  He’s reading between the lines._

“Are they little smart mouths?  Your kids would be.”  Bucky’s face was smiling, but there was a bitter twist to it.  When Bucky had woken up on his eighteenth, his mind was just as much of his own as it always had been.  Bucky had said it would be fine, that he didn’t really want children, but Steve could tell that Bucky wasn’t happy with having the choice taken from him.

 

“Maria, sweetheart, you called him ‘Uncle Bucky’.  Is he around a lot?”

 

_We live in the same building.  He’s always been a big part of our lives.  When we were little, Uncle Buck would let Peter braid his hair-_

_You did it, too!_

I _did his nails.  Stop lying, or I’ll be forced to go get the broom._

_Stop threatening to hit me with the broom, that’s fraternal abuse._

_Mmmm, I was thinking more along the lines of fratricide.  If a spider is climbing on your ceiling, you kill it, not abuse it, Silly Peter._

“You’re gonna big part of my kids’ lives.”

 

The tenseness of the line of Bucky’s shoulders lessened somewhat. He visibly relaxed.  “Well. As happy as I am for you, you need to get it under control.  People don’t just go around talking to their kids out loud.”

 

He was right.  The mental connection that people had with their future children was well known, as most people had it, but it was a rather taboo thing to discuss.  The only time most people discussed it was with a potential spouse.  Steve knew Bucky well enough, and they trusted each other to say everything, but Steve knew he wouldn’t be able to go around just having discussions with Peter and Maria out loud.  Not if he wanted to pull the attention of more bullies.  He might go picking fights, but he didn’t like when others started them.

 

There were many benefits to the mental connection parents had with children.  His kids had the benefit of knowing him when he was older.  Peter and Maria would be there to help him make the decisions most important to his life; tell him what direction he was supposed to go in.  And possibly most important to Steve, help him find their mother.

 

“I’ll get it together, I just . . . .  Can’t I be excited?”

 

Bucky smiled indulgently.  “You can.  You’re gonna be a dad.  But why can’t you be excited for me?”

 

“Why?”

 

“ _I’m_ gonna be an uncle.”

 

Steve nearly had an asthma attack, he was laughing so hard.

 

 

 

_Am I ever going to get in?  You keep telling me I will, but I’ve applied five times.  4-F every time._

_You_ will _get in, Papa.  You just need to keep trying._

_Okay, but will this date prove anything?  When will I meet your mother?_

A double sigh.  In the almost six years since Steve had woken up to Peter and Maria in his head,   as much as he enjoyed getting to know them, they’d yet to say who their mother was, or even give Steve a hint as to when or where they would meet.  The only thing they would say was it would be a while.

 

Steve had been disappointed, but ever since the breakout of the war, he had understood.  If he was finally able to join the Army like they said he would, it would be a least a few years in Europe.  Then maybe when the Nazis were beaten, he could return home looking for his future wife.

 

Still, he be tried to be polite to the girl Buck had set him up with.  She _was_ pretty, but it was obvious she wasn’t interested.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Howard Stark!”

 

A dark haired man with clever eyes took the stage and proceeded to fail to demonstrate a flying car.  The man was attractive, Steve could tell.  The twins had never said anything about Steve’s attraction to both sexes, but right now, both were radiating anger.

 

_Sorry, I don’t-_

_Don’t worry, Papa.  It’s not that.  It’s . . . Howard Stark may be a genius, but he’s not a good person._

Maria, always the more vocal of the twins, had a rigid frostiness in her tone that was completely different from her usual warm softness beneath her layer of snark.

 

_What did, or will he, do?_

_He’s working with the government on the Manhattan Project right now, but as_ despicable _as the outcome of that will be, he’s going to have a son in about thirty years._

_Do you know his son?_

_. . . . Very well._ Steve wondered if his future son-in-law would be a Stark.  _No, not that, definitely not that, but Tony Stark is going to be a_ very _big part of our lives._

_So why is Howard so bad?_

_He doesn’t hear D- Tony’s voice._

 

That made Steve pause.  It was rare when a person had a child and didn’t hear a voice.  Usually the parent was so bitter that they had not heard, they either put the kid in an orphanage or neglected the kid.  By not hearing a voice, they insured they never knew their children.  Their children often went on to not hear voices.  It was a vicious cycle.

 

 _Hey,_ Peter cut in, sounding excited _.  That recruiting center behind you.  Go check it out._

 

Steve turned to see Uncle Sam pointing at him.

 

_Is it time?  Am I finally going to get in?_

_Make sure you talk to Abraham Erskine, and you will._

Steve couldn’t believe that he was actually here.  Here, at Camp Leigh.  An Army training camp.  He had been internally celebrating with Peter and Maria since Erskine had offered his “chance”.  The twins had assured him this was how he got in the Army, this was how he got in the War, this “chance” would change everything.

 

The twins had actually helped him get in.  One of the questions they had asked for Erskine’s program was if he had the voices of his children in his head.  They hadn’t asked anything else, like names or anything else specific, but whoever was selected was insured survival if they would have children.  Steve didn’t know just exactly the project would require him to do, but he wanted to be the one chosen so badly it made his teeth ache.

 

_Just be yourself._

_That’s so corny, Ri._

_Shut it.  Papa, you’re exactly what Erskine is looking for.  Just don’t try to be someone you’re not, and you’ll have it._

They kept his spirits up.  They politely bad-mouthed Colonel Philips, and not-so-politely bad-mouthed his fellow recruits.  When he was kneeled over, panting for breath, Peter would say _You can’t give up.  What kind of example are you being?  You didn’t raise me to give up._   When he was lying on his cot with muscles screaming in agony, he focused on Maria’s refrain of _We love you.  You’re doing so well.  We love you.  You’re almost done.  We love you._

 

The twins seemed very interested in Peggy, but when Steve pushed them, he was met with silence.  Usually they just told him that someone wasn’t right for him, so hopefully they wanted Steve to find out on his own.

 

When he heard Philips shout “Grenade!” he didn’t think.  He just threw himself over it and thought _I’m sorry._

 

He waited a count, two, three, nothing happened.  The twins were breathless.

 

 _You did it, Papa._ Maria sounded so proud.

 

“Is this a test?” Steve asked, forgetting for a moment not to ask aloud.

 

_Yes.  And you passed._

The next twenty-four hours were a blur.  The twins were practically jumping with joy.  Their excitement was infectious, and helped quell some of Steve’s nervous anxiety.  He had been chosen for this serum.  He was going to war.

 

When Erskine asked, “What do your children have to say about the success of the procedure?”, Steve was about to say he didn’t know, but they piped up:

 

_Complete success._

_You won’t be like Schmidt, thank the lord._

_You’ll actually be able to breathe._

_Tell them to be careful of the calibrations on the Vita Ray chamber.  They need to make sure they don’t blow the entire electrical infrastructure._

Steve relayed their information, even if he didn’t understand what it all meant.  Erskine, though, seemed happy with that information.

 

The next morning found him back in his old neighborhood.  Peggy led him into the secret lab, and the twins were quiet.  They were tense, excited, but when Erskine greeted him, they had a sad sort of melancholy about it.  But before he could ask what it was about, he found himself being shepherded into a cocoon-like machine.  Nurses in starched white uniforms strapped him in, and he had to deal with Maria’s frostiness when Stark appeared.  There was a large group of elite middle-aged men containing Colonel Philips, looking both doubtful and bored as they moved into the observation room.  Before he knew it, the nurses were loading in the vials of violently blue serum and attaching pads to his chest and arms.

 

He couldn’t hear Erskine as he narrated the process, especially as the serum was injected.  It was searing pain flooding his system; he wanted to curl into a ball, at the same he wanted to run for miles.  It was painful not because of the injection, but because of his system felt like it had more energy and power in it than is entre life combined. 

 

Then the Vita Ray chamber was tipping up, sealing him inside.  Suddenly there was calm, nothing but Maria’s murmur of _It’s okay, you’re okay.  It’ll be over soon.  I love you._  

 

Erskine tapped lightly on the outside.  “Steven?  Can you hear me?”

 

_Crack a joke._

“Probably too late to go to the bathroom, right?”

 

“We will proceed.”

 

There was blinding light, someone was shouting outside.  Pain beyond anything he had ever experienced, his cells were on fire, he wasn’t going to make it.  He was screaming.  Someone else was screaming, too.

 

“Steven?  Steven!”

 

“Shut it down!”

 

“Kill the reactors!”

 

_You can’t quit now._

 

“No! Don’t!  I can do this!”

 

The stinging intensified until everything was burning.  Pops sounded outside.  Then there was nothing.

 

“Mr. Stark!”

 

The chamber opened with a hiss.  Hands were grabbing for him, helping him out, voices raised in excitement.

 

“How do you feel?”  Peggy.

 

Everything was different.  Everything was _bigger_ , longer, thicker, stronger.  Everyone was smaller.  There were colors he had never seen, and it was no struggle to pull a breath.

 

“Taller.”

 

“You look taller.”

 

_You did it, Papa._

 

Steve allowed himself a smile at Maria’s comment.

 

Then shots sounded.

 

 

 

 “Would you like to serve your country in the most difficult theater of the war?”

 

“Sir, it would be my honor.”

 

A collective groan from the twins.

 

_Pops, you didn’t._

_What?_

When he saw the costume they wanted him to wear, he understood.

 

 

 

“I’ve signed more of these condolence letters that I can remember, but that name sounds familiar.  I’m sorry.”

 

Cold emptiness filled him.  Bucky _couldn’t_ be gone.  Not like that.  It wasn’t possible.

 

_He’s alive.  He’s depending on you to rescue him._

 

Peter’s words steeled him, and he gritted his teeth and stalked off.

 

_Will I be following the rules?_

_If you do, something’s fucked up, ‘cause my father only follows the rules when it’s convenient._

 

 

 

_In there._

 

“Bucky?”

 

 

 

_Ew._

Seeing the blood-colored face of Schmidt, Steve had to agree.

 

 

 

Dugan put down his pint.  “If we’re going to do this, we need a name.  Something cool, but tough.  We’re not gonna call ourselves the Patriots.  Sorry, Cap.”

 

“No offense taken.”

 

Morita bit his lip.  “I always thought ‘Commando’ was a cool term.  Something with that?”

 

_Captain America and his Howling Commandoes._

_They do make a lot of noise._

“The Howling Commandoes?” Steve offered.

 

The whoop that went up told him the name was accepted.

 

 

 

So it went.  They moved around on missions, tracing Hydra’s whereabouts.  Sometimes the twins helped, giving him information he didn’t have or reminding him of certain things he had forgotten or overlooked.  War was terrible, but it was also fun.  He’d never had this much fun.

 

But he was ready to go home.  The persistent ache that attacked when he heard his children’s voices, he wanted it gone.  As much as it comforted him to have them in his head, he wanted to see them.  Hold them.  He had been taught so much by them.  He now wanted to teach them just as well.

 

 

 

It was spring, and he was hopeful.  The end was in sight.  The war was wrapping up.  The Nazis were crumbling, and Hydra was getting more and more desperate.  Soon he could go home, find his wife, and finally have the twins in his arms.

 

The Alps were still freezing as they waited for Zola’s train to approach.

 

“Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone on Coney Island?”

 

“Yeah, and I threw up?”

 

_Remember this moment, Papa._

_What about it?_

 

 

 

_Don’t give up on him._

“Why?” Steve asked through a nose full of snot.  “He’s dead.”

 

_Papa, it’s very complicated-_

“Don’t give me that!” he found himself shouting.  He _never_ yelled at Maria.  “Either he’s dead, or he’s dying in the mountains.  Tell me something I can use.”

 

_We can’t._

“Then don’t say anything.”

 

It was painful, almost as painful as the sight of Bucky falling, falling, and Steve was helpless.  Maria, so soft but with a core of steel and skin like iron, pulling away, Peter following.  They couldn’t leave, but put themselves at the back of his mind, the only thing he could feel was hurt from his daughter and anger from his son.

 

“Don’t go.”  He was sobbing.  “You’re all I have.”

 

Peter’s tone was colder than the Alps.  _But I thought Bucky’s all you’ve ever had._

“No!” he was screaming.  They were _everything_ , _everything_ to him.

 

_I get it, why care about your future as long as-_

_Peter, that’s enough._

Maria, pain still emanating from her, cautious, allowed her warmth back in.  Steve was sobbing, now in relief.  He didn’t like the cold.

 

“What do I do now?”

 

_What you always do.  Avenge him._

 

 

 

There were icicles forming in his eyelashes as the thin, atmospheric air hit him in the face.  Had he not had the serum, his would be suffocating from lack of oxygen.

 

He fiddled with the radio.  “This is Captain Rogers.  Do you read me?”

 

Morita was on the other end.  “Captain Rogers, what is your-“

 

Peggy cut in.  “Steve is that you?  Are you alright?”

 

“Peggy!  Schmidt’s dead.”

 

“What about the plane?”

 

Snow was in his eyes.  “That’s a little bit tougher to explain.”

 

“Give me your coordinates, I’ll find you a safe landing site.”

 

“There’s not gonna be a safe landing, but I can try and force it down.”

 

“I’ll get Howard on the line.  He’ll know what to do.”

 

“There’s not enough time.  This thing’s moving too fast and it’s headed for New York.”

 

The ocean peaked out from under the clouds.  The expanses of blue and white were beautiful.  Unforgiving.  Inevitable.

 

_You have to._

 

“I gotta put her in the water.”

 

“Please don’t do this; we have time we’ll work it out.”

 

“Right now I’m in the middle of nowhere.  If I wait a lot longer a lot of people are gonna die.”

 

_Will I still get you both?_

_It’s the only way you will._

 

“Peggy, this is my choice.”

 

He tried to imagine, for the millionth time, Peter and Maria’s faces.  They would both have brown hair, hers rich curls like chocolate, his lighter, more like honey.  Maria’s eyes vibrant blue like the Tesseract thing, Peter’s the color of whiskey.  Little children smiling, running, giving him hugs and kisses, holding his hand.

 

He maneuvered the controls so the nose of the plane was pointing down.

 

“Peggy.”

 

“I’m here.”

 

“I’m gonna need a rain check on that dance.”

 

“Alright. . . . A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club.”

 

“You got it.”

 

“Eight o’clock on the dot.  Don’t you dare be late.  Understood?”

 

“You know, I still don’t know how to dance.”

 

“I’ll show you how, just be there.”

 

“We’ll have the band play something slow.  I wouldn’t want to step on your feet.”

 

The last word was lost in a wave of static.

 

“I’m not going to make that date, am I?”

 

 

 

 

Ice formed in his lungs, he felt his heart slow.

 

Blearily, he thought _I’m sorry._

_It’ll be over soon._

_Papa, we love you._


	2. And So Become Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally had time to watch the movies to get the proper dialogue!
> 
> I've decided to split the events of Iron Man and Iron Man II between chapters. Just need to polish off the rest of that and I'll post Chapter 3.

_Hey, wake up._

_Don’t be rude, he’s got a hangover.  Wake up when you feel better._

Tony groaned, rolled over, and buried his face in a pillow.  “Go away.”

 

_Can’t.  Sorry._

His head was throbbing so bad.  It made the voices of whoever was trying to get him up sound like they were echoing around in his head.

 

_That’s because we are in your head._

 

And it all came together.  He’d gotten blackout drunk at his pre-eighteenth birthday party last night, to avoid finding out whether or not voices would bother him in the morning.

 

“Aw, shit.”  He stumbled out of bed and bolted for the bathroom.

 

 _Lovely, Daddy_ his daughter said disapprovingly as he vomited violently into the porcelain bowl.

 

 

 

“So, what do I need to know about you?” Tony asked after he had situated himself on the floor of the kitchen with a glass of Jarvis’s old hangover “cure”.

 

_Not much.  My name’s Peter Parker-_

_And I’m Maria Antonia.  And Daddy, you need to stop drinking so much.  Your liver and I will thank you._

“Peter and Maria,” he rolled around his tongue, trying to get used to the feeling of their names in his mouth.  They sounded about right.  Peter Parker Stark.  Maria Antonia Stark.

 

“Did I have the balls to name you after me?”

 

_No, you pick Peter’s name._

 

So whoever he has kids with will want to name their daughter after him.  Great.  “I like that you’re named after my mother.  Peter, be happy you’re not named Howard.”

 

_I know._

 

Because Howard had never heard Tony’s voice.  When his mother went to his father so happy that she had stopped hearing Anthony’s voice, he had thrown a chair against the wall, thinking she had had an affair on him.  After it had been proven that she didn’t, their marriage was still over.  Howard had played no part in raising him.  Fate had known he’d be absent in his son’s life.  And insured it.

 

Parents heard their children’s voices from the day they came of age until the moment of conception.  That meant for the foreseeable future, he was going to have witnesses to his every terrible decision.  Even if they wouldn’t remember.  _He_ would.

 

_Dad, it’s going to be okay._

 

“I don’t know if I can be a father.”

 

He buried his head in his hands and wept.

 

 

 

Tony didn’t change his life after finding out he would someday have kids.  Ria had assured him that they wouldn’t be born for about thirty years, so he just tuned out her disapproval and went about his business.  He slept around, partied, go shitfaced at every opportunity.  He didn’t go searching for a love that wasn’t going to make an appearance for a couple decades.

 

He had wondered with Pepper, if it was possible that they might be the twins’ mother.  They refused to answer, so one day he asked if she would have kids.

 

She had smiled, and looked hopeful.

 

“The only child I’ll ever have is my work.”

 

She thought he wouldn’t have them, like everyone else.

 

_Don’t worry, she’ll be Auntie Pepper._

 

That didn’t make him feel better.

 

 

 

Tony ignored the twins, until it was too painful to ignore their voices.  With Rhodey and Pepper, they were the only people who were ever honest with him.  His kids were _brutally_ honest.  Tony wondered if they got it from their mother.  He could see himself maybe falling for someone like that.

 

They never yelled at him, their disapproval just grew, and Tony was forced to drink more to stave off the feelings of worry and concern.

 

_You know we’re here for you, right?_

 

Which just made it all the more awful.  He was selfish.  And he only had himself to blame.

 

_You’re not selfish.  You’re the most selfless man I’ve ever known._

 

He wished he could believe them.

 

 

 

“Is it cool if I take a picture with you?” the kid asked, because really, he was just a kid.

 

“Yes, it’s very cool.”

 

_Why, my darling children, are our service men such idiots?_

_No.  Don't._

_What?  I hang out with Rhodey, that’s enough of military guys for me._

They paused for a minute, then busted out laughing.

 

_What?  What’s funny?_

_“Enough military guys for me”_ Peter chortled.

 

The kid pulled a compact digital camera that probably cost fifty dollars and handed it to his buddy in the front seat.

 

“I don’t wanna see this on your MySpace page.”  The solider just grinned and put an arm around Tony’s shoulders as he held up two fingers.  “No gang signs.  No, I’m kidding, throw it up.  Yeah, peace.  I love peace.  I’d be out of a job with peace.”

 

_That’s the sign for victory, Dad._

_Peter, isn’t the thing that comes right after victory peace?  Use your brain, I know you have one._

_I’m not-_

_Shut up.  It’s happening._

_What’s happening?  Peter, Maria?_

 

The explosives blew while the solider in the front seat was fiddling with the shitty camera.

 

“What’s going on?  What’ve we got?”

 

“Stay with Stark!”  the guy in the front said before kicking open the door.

 

“Get down!”

 

_Not the time to be a rebel, Dad.  Do it._

 

The sharp ping of bullets on metal filled the air as he hunched over in the back seat with the kid holding him down.  Shouts and firefights were going on outside

 

“Son of a bitch!” the kid grunted as he primed his gun and climbed out.

 

“Wa-wa-wait-“

 

“Stay here!” the nameless solider shouted before being riddled like Swiss cheese.  Shafts of sunlight filled the Humvee from the circular holes.

 

_Get out of there, Daddy.  You’ll die if you stay._

 

He jumped from the Humvee, zigzagging through the desert sand.

 

 

 

_Calmly._

_Why?_ he wondered.

 

It was cold.  His head ached.  Where was he?  Was he hung-over?  That wouldn’t be a first.  But it didn’t feel like he had been drinking, more like he had locked himself in his workshop and had not been properly nourished in several days.  He was starving.  He was lying on a cot.  It was _really_ cold.  He was covered in a rough blanket.  Had he passed out somewhere weird?  There was something in his nose.  There was something buzzing in his chest.  Oh, his chest ached.  Like someone had done open-heart surgery or something.

 

Tony reached up and pulled the cannula out of his nose, blinking at the dank surroundings, like a cave.  His vision was blurry, but he was able to make out what looked like the metal of a collapsible drinking cup.  He tried to grab it, but he miscalculated how well his fingers worked, and it clattered to the ground.  He was wracked with deep coughs, seizing control of his entire body.  He tried to roll off the cot to hurl the bile that was rising in his throat, but something stopped him.

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

 

It came from a man who was pulling a blade across his jaw line in front of a grimy, shattered mirror.

 

Tony turned to see what was holding him back, and saw a car battery with a label in Arabic.  Wires were connected to the conductors, which lead to strips of gauze that were wrapped around his chest.

 

He pulled open the bandages to reveal a raised metal circle embedded in the middle of his sternum, humming faintly.

 

 

 

“What the hell did you do to me?”

 

_Be nice to him, he’s been here a lot longer than you._

 

“What I did?  What I did was to save your life.  I removed all the shrapnel I could, but there's a lot left.  It’s headed into your atrial septum.  Here, wanna see?  A souvenir.  Take a look.”

 

The man tossed him a glass bottle that clinked faintly we it moved.  It was filled with tiny shards of a dull metal.  Bile rose in his throat again.  He had made this.

 

_Listen to Yinsen._

 

“I’ve seen many wounds like that in my village.  We call them the walking dead, because it takes about a week for the barbs to reach the vital organs-“

 

“What is this?”  He gestured to the metal thing it his chest.

 

“That, is an electromagnet.  Hooked up to a car battery.  And it’s keeping the shrapnel from entering your heart, hmm?”

 

“Where are we?”

 

The man was about to say something, but a bang sounded on the metal door and a rough voice sounded.  The door rattled, and slid open, admitting a troop of armed mercenaries.

 

“Stand up!  Stand up!” the man hissed.  “Do as I do!  Put your hands up!”

 

“My guns, how did they get my guns?”

 

“Do as I do!”

 

_Do it._

 

 

 

“I refuse.”

 

Water in his lungs.  Maria calling out to him.

 

Then being marched.  Bright sunlight.

 

And he had failed.

 

 

 

_Should I do it?_

_Since when do you do what you’re supposed to?_

_Remember the arc reactor?_

 

 

“This was always the plan Stark.”

 

“No, your family, your kid, _the voices_ -“

 

“I said I _heard_ , Stark.  My children were born, and now they are gone.  I’m going to see them now.”

 

“No, Yinsen-“

 

“You will have them, I can tell by the way you cock your head.  Go.  You will have them.  Don’t waste your life.”

 

 

 

_Get moving.  They’ll find you._

 

 

 

“JARVIS, you up?”

 

_“For you sir, always.”_

 

_Mark II._

 

“I’d like to open a new project file, index as ‘Mark II’.”

 

 

 

_“Sir, there are still terabytes of calculations needed, before an actual flight is-“_

 

“JARVIS.  Sometimes you gotta run before you can walk.”

 

_I’ll be fine, right?_

_You’ll survive.  Just be careful entering the troposphere._

 

 

 

_I don’t know.  Should I?_

_Hey, it’s your property.  And you need to test the long distance functions of the suit, right?_

_This is why you are my daughter._

_You’re both crazy._

_Shut up, Peter._

 

 

_Should I stick with the Iron Man name?_

_Yes._

_Are you both okay with me doing this?_

_Dad, you ARE Iron Man._

“I am Iron Man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments validate my existence!


	3. They Seek the Truth Before They Can Die

It started slowly, with a fever.  Then he couldn’t control his impulse to take the suit through the In-n-Out drive-thru.  The skin around the arc reactor began to get red and inflamed with a silvery raised hashed pattern, and the compulsion to liquidize assets.  He donated ridiculous amounts to charity and stopped looking at profit margins.

 

It was only due to Peter’s pathetic whining and Maria’s terrified warnings that he didn’t pull his funding on the Cap recovery expeditions.

 

At first he thought he was developing a full-scale psychosis.  Then Maria warned him to get his blood checked.  And he understood why he was forced to change the core of the arc reactor so often.

 

Palladium poisoning.

 

The death sentence didn’t scare him, really.  He just realized he must have been hallucinating for the past twenty years.  He’d be dead in less than six months, and the twins wouldn’t be born for another ten.

 

He found himself obsessed with trying to salvage his _legacy_ , that vague ideal his father had always droned on about.  It disgusted him, trying to be like his father, as he was the mirror opposite.  Howard Stark had a son he never heard.  Tony Stark heard the children he would never have.

 

But he became obsessed with his children, asking their opinions and trying to learn as much as he could about them.  His captivity was the thing that made them close, and now he didn’t want to let go.  He had spent twenty years ignoring them, and the pain he felt over his imminent death had more to do with Peter and Ria than himself.

 

He had never wanted them.  But now that he couldn’t have them, he regretted it immensely.  There would be no getting a son who spent his toddler years trying to find structural faults in the bulletproof windows by repeatedly hurling himself at them.  There would be no sitting with his daughter in his lap, her trying to wire a circuit board while he tried to distract her by demanding kisses.  There would be no using the arc reactor as a night light, there would be no buying Peter rare arachnids for his birthday, there would be no Maria to demand he sing “Maria” from _West Side Story_ and have Peter refute with “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria” from _The Sound of Music_.  No children demanding cuddles, no children to teach, no children to be better than him in every way.

 

He was the first in many things.  And apparently hearing children that could never exist was one of them.

 

_Say, do you think resurrecting StarkExpo is a good idea?_

_No, but you’re gonna do it anyway._

 

 

 

“Wake up, Daddy’s home.”

 

_“Welcome home, Sir.  Congratulations on the opening ceremonies, and such a success at your Senate hearing.  And may I say how refreshing it is to see you in a video with your clothing on.”_

_Despite your showboating, you did very well._

_“Showboating”?  Really, Ri?_

_It’s a verb and a noun at the same time._

_But it’s so old._

_Come up with a better one then._

_Grandstanding?_

_That’s just as old._

 

Tony laughed at his children’s bickering, the rise and fall of the conversation as familiar as the sleek lines of his fingers.  _“Darling you’ve got to let me know, should I stay or should I go,”_ echoed through the workshop as YOU messed with the blender.

 

“How many ounces a day of this gobbled gook am I supposed to be having?”

 

_“We are up to eighty ounces a day to counter-act the symptoms, sir.”_

 

“Check palladium levels.”  Tony pricked his finger on the blood analyzer.  He plucked a bandage from beneath the desk as JARVIS read out the results.

 

_“Blood toxicity, 24%.  It appears that the continued use of the Iron Man suit is accelerating you condition.  Another core has been depleted.”_

 

Tony pulled the arc reactor from his chest and pulled the smoking piece of rare metal from the core.  He pulled another slab from the elegant wooden box Pepper had given him.  He pushed the device containing the new piece of palladium back in the socket.

 

“God, I’m running out quick.”

 

_“I’ve run simulations on every known element, and none can serve as a viable replacement from the palladium core.  You are running out of both time and options.  Unfortunately, the device that is keeping you alive is also killing you.”_

_Sorry about this me dying and you two never being born thing._

A double sigh.

 

 

 

“Hey, Tony.  Before you go.  Palladium in the chest.  Painful way to die.”

 

_Don’t listen to him._

 

If only.

 

 

 

 

“Natalie, this is a very personal question-“

 

“Then it’s best you don’t ask it.”

 

“Will you have kids?  Do they speak to you?”  She looked shocked for the first time since Tony had met here.  “You don’t have to answer, it’s just, no one ever wants to talk about them.  I don’t understand how people can be so . . . _ashamed_ of them.”

 

He thought she was going to deflect, but she said slowly “I will have a daughter.  Some day.  Not for many years, but some day.”

 

“Do you know her father?”

 

“Yes, he is . . . my best friend.  You could say partner in crime.”  She smiled secretly.  “Our lives are in no position to have her right now, but every child who speaks to their parents is born.  It’s fate.”

 

_Auntie Tasha is right.  It is fate._

_Who’s Auntie Tasha?_

 

“What’s her name?  Your daughter.”

 

“HemaRosa Sagittaria.”

 

“That’s . . . different.”

 

“It means ‘blood rose’ in Latin.  And Sagittaria is like naming her after him.”

 

“His zodiac sign?”

 

“’The Archer’.  Yes.”

 

“It is pretty, though”

 

“Why are you so interested?”

 

“A lot of people don’t think I’d ever have kids.  They say I’m not the fatherly type.  When I was younger, I believed them; I convinced myself I never would have them.”

 

Rushman’s eyes were bright with curiosity.  “And will you have them?  I told you, it’s only fair.”

 

“Peter Parker and Maria Antonia.  They’re . . . utterly amazing, or they will be.  I hope.”

 

“Well,” Natalie fussed with the watch box.  “Hema says they will be.  Ria will take after her Daddy in a lot of ways.”

 

If only.

 

 

 

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to exit the donut.”

 

_Please get down, you’re embarrassing me._

_Peter, I was put on this Earth to embarrass you._

 

 

 

“I told you, I don’t want to join your super-secret boy band.”

 

“Nah, nah, nah.  I remember.  You do everything for yourself.  How’s that workin’ out for you?”

 

“It’s-it’s-it’s, I’m sorry, I don’t wanna get off on the wrong foot.  Do I look in the patch or the eye?  Honestly, I’m a bit hung-over, I don’t know if you’re real-“

 

“I.  Am.  Real.  I’m _very_ real.  I’m the realest person you’re ever going to meet.”

 

_Don’t be offended.  We played games where we hid from a secret-stealing cyclops when we were little._

 

“Just my luck.  Where’s the staff here?”

 

Fury grabbed at his neck and tapped the edge of the suit.

 

“That’s not lookin’ so good.”

 

“It’s been worse.”

 

There was a clip-clop of efficient heels and a familiar voice joining the conversation.

 

“We’ve secured the perimeter, but I don’t think we should hold it for too much longer.”

 

Rushman was standing there in a skintight black bodysuit, looking like she was born in it.

 

“Hun.  You’re . . . fired.”

 

“That’s not up to you.”

 

She sat down next to Fury, and he wrapped an arm around her like they were the best of friends.

 

“Tony, I want you to meet Agent Romanoff-“

 

“Hi.”

 

“I’m a SHELD shadow.  Once we know you were ill I was tasked to you by Director Fury.”

 

“I suggest you apologize.”

 

“You’ve been very busy.  You made your PA your CEO, you’re givin’ away all your stuff, you let your friend fly away with your suit.  Now, if I didn’t know better-“

 

“You don’t know better.  I didn’t give it to him, he took it.”

 

“Whoa, whoa whoa. What, nah, he _took_ it?  You’re _Iron Man_ , and he just took it?  Your little brother just walked in there, kicked your ass, and took your suit?”  He turned to the red-headed interloper.  “Is that possible?”

 

Rushman’s – _Romanoff’s_ \- eyes glinted. “Well, according to Mr. Stark’s security base data guidelines, there are redundancies to prevent unauthorized usage.”

 

There was a pregnant pause.

 

“What’d you want from me?”

 

Agent PA got up, while Fury gesticulated wildly.

 

“What do we want from you?  Nuh-uh-uh, what’d _you_ want from _me_?  _You_ have become a problem, a problem _I_ have to deal with.  Contrary to popular belief, you are not the center of my universe.  I have bigger problems than you in the Southwest region to deal with.  Hit ‘em.”

 

A hiss issued from the needle that Romanoff stabbed in his neck.

 

“ _God_ , what’re you gonna do, steal my kidney and . . . sell it?  Could you please not do anything awful for . . . five seconds?  What’d she just do to me?”

 

“What’d we just do _for_ you.  That’s lithium dioxide, it’s gonna take the edge off.  We’re tryin’ to get you back to work.”

 

“Alright, gimmie a couple of boxes of that, I’ll be right as rain.”

 

“It’s not a cure, it just abates the symptoms.”

 

“Doesn’t look like it’s gonna be an easy fix.”

 

“Trust me.  I know.  I’m good at this stuff.  I’ve been looking for a suitable replacement for palladium.  I’ve tried every combination, every permutation of every known element.”

 

“Well, I’m here to tell you, you haven’t tried them all.”

 

_You’ll figure it out soon._

 

 

 

 

“That thing in your chest was based on unfinished technology.”

 

“No, it was finished, It’s just never been particularly effective until I miniaturized it and put it in my-“

 

Fury looked too calm, kicking back and enjoying himself in the burned-out living room.  Tony wondered vaguely how often he did this.  It brought about the image of Fury sunbathing in a tiny lavender silk robe as he shot ninjas and drank mimosas, and he had to suppress a giggle.

 

_That’s truer than you know._

_Really?!_

 

“No, I always heard the arc reactor was a stepping stone for something greater.  It was gonna kick off an energy race that was gonna dwarf the arms race.  He was on to something big, something so big that it was gonna make the nuclear reactor look like a triple a battery.  You dad said you were the only one with the means and knowledge to finish what he started.”

 

“He said that?”

 

“Are you that guy?  ‘Cause if you are, you can solve the riddle of your heart.”

 

“I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but he wasn’t my biggest fan”

 

“What do remember about your dad, hm?”

 

“He was cold he was calculating.  He never told me he loved me, he never even told me he liked me.  He never heard me, and never made an effort to even _try_ and get to know me.  So it’s a little difficult to understand why he would say the whole future was riding on me.  I don’t get that.  We’re talking about a man whose first instinct to his wife being pregnant was to try and divorce her, and whose happiest day was when he shipped me off to boarding school.”

 

“That’s not true.”

 

“Well, then clearly you knew my dad better than I did.”

 

“As a matter of fact I did.  He was one of the founding members of SHELID.  And I get the feeling you’re gonna be a much better father than him.”

 

“How do you- Oh.  Agent Sneaky Shots,”

 

“There’s a reason people don’t talk about their kids.  Gives people information you might not want them to have.”

 

 

 

The case they gave him was filled with junk.  Notebooks and files, old film he put on the ancient projector, a first edition Captain America comic he thought about putting up for auction for half a second until Peter complained loudly.  He paged through a notebook while idly watching his father get gradually more inebriated on film.

 

“Tony,” the voice of a long dead man, who had been dead to Tony for his entire life.

 

“You’re too young to understand this right now, so I thought I would put it on film for you.  I built this for you.  And someday, you’ll realize it represents a whole lot more than just people’s inventions.   I represent’s my life’s work.  This is the key to the future.  I’m limited by the technology of my time, but one day you’ll figure this out.  And when you do, you’ll change the world.  What is and always will be, my greatest creation, is you.”

 

_You are pretty great, Dad._

_But you two are much more than a creation._

_You’ll do so much better than him._

“My God, I hope you’re right,” he said aloud to the empty room.

 

 

 

_You seein’ what I’m seein’, baby?_

_If it’s atoms for vibranium, yes._

_All I see is landscaping_ Peter groused.

“‘Recruitment assessment for Avenger Initiative:  Iron Man yes.’  I gotta thing about it.”

 

“Read on.”

 

“Tony Stark . . . not recommended.  That doesn’t make any sense.  How can you approve me but not approve me?”

 

“We’d only like to use me as a consultant.”

 

_He lies._

 

He reached to shake Fury’s hand.  “You can’t afford me.  And my daughter says you lie.”

 

“I’m a spy, remember?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter's gonna be a lot longer, but I need to watch the Avengers first.
> 
> Your comments are like lifeblood! I squeal every time I see something in my inbox.


	4. Their Fathers’ Hell Did Slowly Go By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, finally. The meat. (Mumbles to self "took you long enough")
> 
> It took me forever to find time to watch the movie to lift the dialogue, then I did like half the movie, then found a website with like everything already written. *bangs head on table*

 

The bed was warm, soft.  The radio was on.

 

_Nice to see you awake, Papa._

 

Since when had he been in a bed this soft?  They didn’t _make_ beds this soft.  The radio was on.  Baseball.

 

_Nice to hear your voice, sweetheart._

_What about me?_ Peter huffed. _Aren’t you happy to hear me?_

_Your voice grates a bit more._

 

Maria laughed while Peter groused.

 

_Don’t take it personally, Pete.  She’s more calming, yes, but you give me better instructions in battle._

_True_ Peter gloated while Maria spluttered.

 

He could feel a dull ache in his bones, like he hadn’t moved in a long while.  He felt like the fish Bucky had found frozen in a block of ice from the harbor after a flash freeze.  They had put the block in a soup pot and melted it over the stove.  When the ice had melted, the fish’s insides were still frozen slightly, but it had still been malleable.  They had taken turns trying to make Bucky’s sisters touch it, and had laughed at their screams.

 

Where was he?

 

_Listen._

 

He did.  The game sounded familiar. 

 

He sat up and looked around.  It looked like a simple hospital room, but . . . off, somehow.  Hospitals didn’t usually have gossamer curtains and personal radios.  The room was more the size of a studio apartment.  And the smell of anesthetic and urine was absent.

 

Windows to the right and behind the bed, open, he could jump.  Door ten feet from the foot of the bed, closed, possibly locked.  He would have to try it.

 

_Have I heard this before?_

_No.  But you were at the game._

_Where the hell am I?_

_Please don’t accidentally hurt them.  You’ll regret it._

 

“What-?”  He was cut off by the door opening.

 

“Morning,” said the . . . nurse, he supposed.  Except she didn’t look like any nurse he had ever seen.  His mother never would have dressed in clothes mean for an office.  Nor would she have dreamt of having her hair down or wearing makeup, especially lipstick that dark.  He couldn’t place his finger on every single thing wrong with her, but she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever seen.  She checked her watch.  “Or should I say afternoon.”

 

“Where am I?”  He tried to make his tone threatening as possible.

 

“You’re in a recovery room in New York City.”

 

That phrasing was . . . wrong.  Who said New York City?  You either said New York or specified a borough.  He voice was off.  Her inflections were off.  The only people he knew who even vaguely talked like that . . . hadn’t been born.

 

Why were the buildings black and white?  And the air was too clean.  The wind that was blowing through the windows was cooler than it should have been in late April.  Or was it May?  The air had no grit to it, and he could barely taste the pollutants.  It didn’t _smell_ like anything.  Since when did the air not smell?

 

He glanced at the radio, and the play they were running.  The memory clicked.

 

_Gently._

 

“Where am I, really?”

 

She smiled, and let out the barest huff of a laugh, like she didn’t find him funny.  No one did that.  Only Maria laughed like that occasionally, when she wasn’t trying to hurt his feelings.  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

 

She looked terrified beneath her overdone makeup and fake smile.

 

“The game.  It’s from May 1941.  I know, cause I was there.”

 

He eyes widened slightly, like she, or someone, had made a mistake.  He stood, relishing the height and the shoulder width, and how he knew they intimidated.

 

“I’m gonna ask you again: where am I?”

 

“Captain Rogers-“

 

“Who are you?”

 

The door opened, admitting two men in black.  Special Forces uniforms.  Ones like he had never seen.  Their guns looked like something out of a science fiction illustration.

 

The carefully, if poorly, constructed illusion crumpled when he threw the men against the wall.  The sheetrock crumbled out, revealing . . . a soundstage?  Cleaner than the ones he had filmed war propaganda on.  Or was it a hangar?

 

“Captain Rogers!  Wait!” the strange woman called after him.

 

He made a single revolution, then ran for the double doors.  The woman was shouting something.

 

“All agents: code thirteen.”

 

Not SSR agents then.

 

More of the Special Forces agents were following him, but he knew he could out run them.  He just didn’t know what he was running into.

 

_“I repeat, all agents: code thirteen.”_

 

The hall was odd, one wall completely glass, looking out on a street.  The other wall was structured like blocks.  There were people in strangely cut suits milling around.

 

The men continued to follow him.  He knocked over one that ran at him.

 

Maria had said gently.

 

He ran through the building, the numerous windows guiding him to the exit.

 

It was wet, rainy, and smelled more like home here.  Different but recognizable.  Manhattan?  A taxi nearly ran him over.  The cars were different from any he’d ever seen, sleeker and more aerodynamic.

 

He ran, and ran, and ran, through streets that were familiar yet unrecognizable.  He saw a street sign and immediately recognized his location, midtown Manhattan, but no land mark was at all familiar.  It was like someone had replaced all the buildings, but left the street plan.

 

He ran for Times Square, because people would be there.  Had they won the war?  It was so loud.  Ma had always said when the Great War was over, people had convened there.

 

It was Times Square, but it wasn’t.  It was too bright; the paint of the signs was glowing and moving in some cases.  Billboards that looked like full-color photographs.

 

_Careful._

 

A fleet of dark, strangely shaped cars pulled up, surrounding him in three seconds.  Sleek.  Professional.

 

Where the hell was he?

 

_Not where.  When._

 

“At ease, soldier!” a voice shouted from behind him.

 

A black man, dressed in a floor-length coat and . . . _an eye patch?_

_We call him ‘Cyclops.’_

 

He was military, Steve could tell by his gait.

 

“Look, I’m sorry about that little show back there, but . . . we thought it best to break it to you slowly.”

 

He felt, for the first time since he had gained this body, like he was going to have an asthma attack.  “Break what?”

 

“You’ve been asleep, Cap.  For almost seventy years.”

 

_Was this how it was always going to be?_

_Papa, we couldn’t-_   Maria sounded like she was crying.

_Is it true?_

_Yes_ Peter said firmly, but gently. _It was always going to be this way._

 

“You gonna be okay?”

 

 _That asshole, how can you be_ okay _after something like that?_

 

“Yeah, I just – I had a date.”

 

_You did tell me I wouldn’t make it._

 

 

 

2012.  Sixty-seven years.

 

The sand shifted under his fists.

 

He let the bag fly.

 

 _Papa_ Maria admonished.

 

Apparently, this was how it was supposed to go.  Everyone he knew was dead.  His children were to be born in an age he didn’t know.  This age, of fast-talkers and smartphones and insincerity.

 

“Trouble sleeping?”  It was Fury, the man with the eye patch.  The current director of SHEILD, the successor to the SSR.  Founded by Peggy.

 

“Slept for seventy years, sir.  Think I’ve had my fill.”  He went to work on his new bag.

 

“Then you should be out.  Celebrating.  Seeing the world.”

 

Fury probably wasn’t going to give up, so he moved over to his bag to unwrap his hands.

 

“When I went under, the world was at war.  I woke up and they say we won.  They didn’t say what we lost.”

 

“We’ve made some mistakes along the way.  Some very recently.”

 

“You here with a mission, sir?”

 

“I am.”

 

“Tryin’ to get me back in the world?”

 

“Trying to save it.”

 

Fury held out a manila folder, filled with sheets of information on the glowing blue cube he had last seen illuminating the blood-colored lines of Schmidt’s deformed face.

 

“Hydra’s secret weapon.”

 

“Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you.  He thought what we think: the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy.  That’s something the world sorely needs.”

 

He handed the file back.

 

“Who took it from you?”

 

“He’s called Loki.  He’s . . . not from around here.  There’s a lot more we’ll have to bring you up to speed on if you’re in.  The world has gotten stranger then you already know.”

 

He looked away.  He just wanted to hold his children.  Was that too much to ask?  Was it so terrible that he preferred being called “Papa” and “Pops” over “Captain”?

 

“At this point I doubt anything would surprise me.”

 

“Ten bucks says you’re wrong.”

 

He grabbed his gym bag, and swung one of the punching bags over his shoulder.

 

“There’s a debriefing packet waiting for you at your apartment.  There anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we ought to know now?” Fury called after him.

 

“You should have left in the ocean.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

He used the wrist laser to cut the pipe holding the Stark Tower electricity connection and placed the disruptor over them.  It slid into place.  He powered the thrusters to blast out of the water, and directed himself through the concrete monoliths of Manhattan.

 

_I’m about to do it.  Aren’t you proud of me?_

_We’ll see if it doesn’t blow, Dad._

_Thanks, spawn of mine._

 

“Good to go on this end.  The rest is up to you.”

 

_“You disconnected the transmission lines?  Are we off the grid?”_

 

“Stark Tower is about to become a beacon of self-sustaining clean energy.”

 

_“Well, assuming the arc reactor takes over and it actually works.”_

 

“I’m assuming.  Light her up.”

 

The lights flickered on.

 

Pepper sounded awed.  _“How does it look?”_

 

“Like Christmas, but with more _me_.”

 

_“We gotta go wider on public awareness campaign.  You gotta do some press.  I going to DC tomorrow, work on the zoning for the next two buildings-“_

 

“Pepper.  You’re killing me.  The moment, remember.  Enjoy the moment?”

 

_“Get in here and I will.”_

He touched down on the specially-constructed landing pad.

 

 _“Sir, agent Coluson of SHEILD is on the line,”_ JARVIS piped up.

 

“I’m not in.  I’m actually out.”

 

_“Sir, I’m afraid he’s insisting.”_

 

“Grow a spine, JARVIS.  I got a date.”

 

Pepper was staring at the feeds from the basement.

 

Tony allowed a bubble of affection for Pepper to well up.  He’d told her about Peter and Maria after the fiasco with Vanko, and while she had been surprised, it was happily so.  She had made him promise to make her godmother (Pepper would be one of four godparents, the twins confirmed) and insisted that she get to steal them for certain periods of time to insure he hadn’t “ruined” them.  She even started putting aside rooms in his houses specified for the incoming Stark twins.  Her enthusiasm was sort of vicarious, but for all she’d done and gone through for him, he could let her play Auntie Pepper.  Even if they wouldn’t be born for another decade.

 

“Levels are holding steady.  I think.”

 

“Of course they are.  I was directly involved.  Which brings me to my next question:  how does it feel to be a genius?”  He griped her shoulders.

 

“Well, I really wouldn’t know, now, would I?”

 

“What’d you mean?  All of this, came from you.”

 

“No, all of this came from _that_.”

 

She tapped the arc reactor.

 

“Give yourself some credit.  Please.  Stark Tower is your baby.  Give yourself, twelve percent of the credit.”

 

“Twelve percent.”  Oh, shit.

 

“An argument can be made for fifteen.”

 

“Twelve percent?  Of my baby?”

 

“I did do all of the heavy lifting.  Literally, I lifted the heavy things. And sorry, but the security snafu.  That was on you.”

 

 _“Ohhhh.”_ She poured some champagne for herself.

 

“My private elevator.”

 

“You mean _our_ private elevator?”

 

“It was teeming with sweaty workmen.  I’m going to pay about that comment on percentages in some way later, aren’t I?”

 

She smiled indulgently.  “Not gonna be that subtle.”

 

“Tell ya what: the next building is going to say ‘Potts’ on the tower.”

 

“On the lease.”

 

Uh, no.  “Call your mom, can you bunk over?”

 

_“Sir, the telephone.  I’m afraid my protocols are being overridden.”_

 

“Stark!  We need to talk,” Coulson’s voice came over JARVIS.

 

“You have reached the life-model decoy of Tony Stark.  Leave a message,” he said as Pepper giggled.

 

“This is urgent.”

 

“Then leave it urgently.”

 

The elevator dinged.

 

“Security breach!”

 

“Mr. Stark.”

 

“Phil!  Come in.”

 

“Phil?”

 

Pepper walked over, greeting him like an old friend.  _He_ was an old friend, not Coulson.

 

“I can’t stay.”

 

“His first name is ‘Agent’.”  He was ignored.

 

“Come on in. We’re celebrating.”

 

“Which is why he can’t stay.”  Ignored again.

 

Coulson held out a debriefing tablet.  “We need you to look this over.  As soon as possible.”

 

“I don’t like being handed things.”

 

“That’s fine, because I love to be handed things.  So, let’s trade.”  She took the tablet, then smoothly slid it to Tony, stealing his champagne.  “Thank you.”

 

“Official consulting hours are between eight and five every other Wednesday.”

 

“This isn’t a consultation.”

 

“Is this about the Avengers?  Which I know nothing about.”

 

He headed over to the counter anyway.

 

“The Avengers Initiative was scrapped, I thought.  And I didn’t even qualify.”

 

“I didn’t know that either.”

 

“Yeah, apparently I’m volatile, self-obsessed.  Don’t play well with others.”

 

“That I did know.”

 

Why did Pepper always talk like he was some sort of bratty four-year-old she had to take care of?

 

“This isn’t about personality profiles anymore.”

 

“Miss Potts.  Got a sec?”  He beckoned with a finger.

 

She whispered something to Coulson before walking over.

 

He tapped in his entry code.

 

“You know, I thought we were having a moment.”

 

“I was having twelve percent of a moment.”  There it was.  “This seems serious, Phil seems pretty shaken.”

 

“How would you know?  Why is he Phil?”

 

_She’s allowed to have other friends, you know._

_No, she’s not.  Hush, you._

 

“What is all this?”

 

“This is this.”

 

He opened the projection screens, revealing the files on the candidates for the Avenger Initiative.  Himself.  Dr. Banner / Mr. Hulk.  The three-thousand year-old Norse god, who must be god of man ponytails.  And a new file for the newly-thawed Captain America.  Hello, daddy issues, thy name is Tony Stark.

 

Pepper whistled lowly.

 

“I’m going to take the jet to DC tonight.”

 

“Tomorrow.”

 

“You have homework.  You have a lot of homework.”

 

“I don’t want to do it.  I never needed to.  Genius, you know.”

 

“Tony.”  She glared.

 

“Square deal.”

 

She kissed him on the cheek, then called out to Coulson, “So, any chance you’re driving by LaGuardia?”

 

“I can drive you.”

 

LaGuardia.  Ew.

 

He drowned out their idle chatter, and scanned the files again.  Besides the Avenger profiles, there were terabytes off data on the Tesseract.  Whatever that was.

 

He opened a file to reveal a glowing blue cube.

 

_Should I like this Cube?_

_No.  Do not like the Cube._

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Quinjet, as the agents had called it, flew smoother than anything he’d ever ridden in.

 

“We’re about forty minutes out from home base, sir.”

 

The lead agent, Coulson, took off his listening equipment and moved over towards where Steve was sitting, skimming through the digital files they had given him.   He was currently immersed in the story of one Bruce Banner.

 

“So, this Doctor Banner was trying to replicate the serum they used on me?”

 

Coulson looked uncomfortable, like he was about to toss his lunch.  “A lot of people were.  You were the world’s first superhero.  Banner thought gamma radiation might be the key to unlocking Erskine’s original formula.”

 

“Didn’t really go his way, did it?”

 

“Not so much, no.  When he’s not that thing, guy’s a regular Stephen Hawking.”

 

Steve looked at him.

 

“He’s like a . . .  smart person.  I gotta say, it’s an honor to meet you.  Officially.  I sort of met you.  I watched you.  While you were sleeping.  I mean, I was present while you were unconscious.  From the ice.”

 

Ah.

 

_Be nice._

“You know, it’s such a huge honor just to have you on board.”

 

He gazed out of the cockpit window, out into the water.  He’d lived in those waters for nigh-on seventy years.  “Well, I hope I’m the man for the job.”

 

“Oh, you are.  Absolutely.  We’ve made some modifications to the uniform.  I had a little design input.”

 

“The uniform?  Aren’t the stars and stripes a little . . . old fashioned?”

 

“Everything that’s happening?  The things that are about to come to light?  People might just need a little old-fashioned.”

 

 

 

The Quinjet landed on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the North Atlantic.  As they exited, a woman, petite and red-headed but with a stance that reminded him of Peggy, approached them.

 

“Agent Romanoff, Captain Rogers.”

 

“Ma’am.”

 

“Hi.  They need you on the bridge; they’re starting the face trace.”

 

Coulson nodded at her.  “See you there.”

 

Steve and Agent Romanoff took a more leisurely pace as he took in the modern jets and pilots.

 

“I was quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice.  I thought Coluson was gonna swoon.  Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?”

 

“Trading cards?”

 

“They’re vintage.  He’s very proud.”  She looked pleased to have ratted him out.

 

A man in civilian clothing was standing in a busy intersection, looking lost.

 

“Doctor Banner!”

 

The man appraised him warily.  “Oh yeah, hi.  Ty told me you’d be coming.”

 

“Word is you can find the cube.”

 

“And is that the only word on me?”  He was bracing himself.

 

“The only word I care about.”

 

“Must be strange for you, all of this.”

 

“Well, this is actually kind of familiar.”  He gesture around.  Weapons and transport changes, but military discipline is millennia old.

 

Agent Romanoff interrupted their stilted conversation.  “Gentlemen, you might want to step inside in a minute.  It’s gonna get a little hard to breathe.”

 

There was a sudden commotion, with people running to tie down jets and flue barrels.

 

“Is this a submarine?”

 

_Nope!_

 

“Really?  They want me in a submerged, pressurized metal container?”

 

The two of them looked over the side, staring straight into a turbine, which was apparently capable of flight.

 

“Oh no, this is much worse.”

 

 

 

“Gentlemen,” was Fury’s way of greeting.

 

 _Pay up_.

 

He handed Fury a ten.

 

Steve spaced out, gazing around at the nerve center as he could hear Fury discussing the Cube’s whereabouts with Banner.  Romanoff went over to one of the compute banks, flicking through the images, setting on one of the men who was possessed.

 

_That’s Clint._

_Her partner?_

_Let’s go with that._

 

 

 

Coulson was standing uncomfortably close.

 

“I mean, if it’s not too much trouble.”

 

“No, no, it’s fine,” he mumbled.

 

“It’s a vintage set.  Took me a couple of years to collect them all.  Near mint.  Slight boxing around the edges, but-“

 

“We got a hit!  67% match.  Wait, cross match 79%.”

 

An image of a sly-looking man with angular features and roughly cut hair filled the screens.

 

“Location?”

 

“Stuttgart, Germany.  28 Konigstrasse.  He’s not exactly hiding.”

 

“Captain,” Fury called.  “You’re up.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Captain.”

 

“Mr. Stark.”

 

_Idiots._

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I don’t like it.”

 

“What?  Rock of Ages giving up so easily?”

 

Natalasha, as Tony had started calling her in his head, was piloting, so he was stuck with Captain Beautif – Butthead.

 

_Sure, Dad._

 

“I don’t remember it being that easy.  This guy packs a whollop.”

 

“Still, you are pretty spry, for an older fellow.  What’s your thing, palates?”

 

“What.”  It wasn’t a question.

 

“It’s like calisthenics.  You might have missed a few things, doing time as a Capsicle.” 

 

_Good one._

_Yay, point for Team Asshole._

 

“Fury didn’t tell me he was calling you in.”  Ow.

 

“Yeah, there’s a lot of things Fury doesn’t tell you.”

 

Thunder boomed, and lightning crashed.  Their captive looked momentarily shaken.

 

“What’s the matter?  Scared of a little lightning?”  So, Captain America was a dick.

 

_Yeah, but you’re more interested in his actual-_

_Peter!_

 

“I’m not overly fond of what follows.”

 

 _Thunk_.  The entire jet shifted, like something had landed on the roof.  Well.  Time to get the helmet on, then.  He jabbed the button to drop the door hatch.

 

“What’re you doin’?”  Cap called.

 

The shiny-haired Asgardian the files had identified as Thor strode in like he owned the place and no, that was Tony’s thing.  He tried to blast him with a repulsor, but Thor just threw his hammer.  When he go up, Both Loki and Thor were n the wind.

 

“Now there’s that guy.”

 

“Another Asgardian?” Natalasha called.

 

“That guy’s a friendly?”

 

“Doesn’t matter.  If he frees Loki or kills him, the Tesseract’s lost.”

 

“Stark!  We need a plan of attack!”

 

“I have a plan: attack.”

 

_You two are just one big prick-waving, dick fight._

_That’s them._

 

 

 

“Do not touch me again.”

 

“Then don’t take my stuff.”

 

“You have no idea what you are dealing with.”

 

“Uh, Shakespeare in the Park?  Doth Mother know you weareth her drapes?”

 

“This is beyond you, Metal Man.  Loki will face Asgardian justice.”

 

“He gives up the Cube he’s all yours.  Until then, stay out of the way.  Tourist.”

 

_Daddy!_

_What?_

 

Then there was a hammer in his back.  God, he _really_ hated hammers.

 

“Okay.”

 

Lightning blasted him.

 

 _“Power at four hundred percent capacity,”_ JARVIS warned.  Like he could do anything about it.

 

He and Thor threw each other around for a bit longer, until Captain Killjoy decided to show up

 

“Hey!  That’s enough.  Now I don’t know what you’re doing here-“

 

“I’ve come to put an end to Loki’s schemes!”

 

“Then prove it.  Put that hammer down.”

 

_How did this guy survive World War II?_

_Well, technically-_

 

“Uh, yeah, no, bad idea, he loves his-“

 

“You want me to put the hammer down!”

 

Note to self.  Vibranium plus the core of a neutron star can apparently flatten a forest. 

 

“We done here?”

 

 

 

“So, Bruce, got any kids?”

 

He looked up from the three data screens he was trying to read at once and muttered distractedly, “Yeah.”

 

“Really?  I thought big green would have prevented you.”

 

“No, she’s going to be adopted.  She’s from somewhere in India, hasn’t told me exactly where yet.  That’s the main reason I was in Calcutta.”

 

One of the beauties of the system was that the voices in your head were not necessarily your biological children.  People who’d never heard a voice and became pregnant either got an abortion or put the kid up for adoption.  People who found themselves unable to have kids quickly got themselves involved with the connection agencies to find their intended children.

 

“You’re not worried?  About the other guy?”

 

Bruce pulled of his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.  “I do, but apparently she’ll be able to control him.  He’s going to be devoted to her, and she’ll be the only one to calm me down.  Whenever I phase, it’s her voice I hear when I come back.”

 

“Name?”

 

“Padma.”

 

“Sorry if it’s too personal-“

 

“No, it’s fine, people who don’t hear are curious as to what it’s like-“

 

_Dun dun DUUNN._

 

_Daddy, calm down, Uncle Bruce doesn’t know-_

Tony found himself shouting anyway.  “Why does everyone _always_ assume I won’t have kids?  What is it about me that make people think I won’t be able to?”

 

Bruce looked taken aback.  “Tony, I’m sorry.  I just assumed-“

 

“Everyone always assumes.”

 

“How many?  What are their names?”

 

Tony breathed deeply while Maria whispered reassurances and Peter laughed.

 

“Twins.  Girl and a boy.  Peter and Maria.”

 

“Congratulations.”

 

“Yeah,” relief at being able to talk about them for once flooded his system.  “Ria called you ‘Uncle Bruce’, so I must assume this is the start to a beautiful friendship.”

 

Bruce tilted his head, listening to whatever his daughter had to say, before stating, “Yeah, apparently our kids will grow up like cousins.”

 

_We will.  Pads is my favorite._

_Why am I not your favorite?  I’m your brother._

_That means I’m biologically obligated to love you.  You’re annoying, and Padma doesn’t hide in the chandelier and eat all the lasagna._

_I have an increased metabolism._

_I know.  Trust me, I know._

“Okay, it looks like our daughters will be best friends, and my son will be deeply irritated by that.  He will be literally driven up the wall.”

 

Bruce’s laughter was interrupted by Rogers striding in with a scowl on his face.

 

“How’s it going, Cap?  Tony and I were just talking about our kids.  You wanna share?”

 

Rogers blanched, and his eyes darted upwards for a moment, the universal sign for listening.  “I’m not so sure I’m comfortable-“

 

“Oh, come on Capsicle.  Traditional guy like you must have a dozen kids.”

 

“I will have two children, but it’s not really something I’m comfortable talking about.  Is it less taboo to talk about them now or something?”

 

Bruce cut in before Tony could answer.  “No, it’s still a touchy subject.  The only reason I was talking about my daughter was because a crazy billionaire-“

 

“Eccentric!”

 

“- asked me.” Bruce cleared his throat awkwardly.  “The gamma readings are definitely consistent with Selvig's reports on the Tesseract.  But it's gonna take weeks to process.”

 

 “If we bypass their mainframe and direct a reroute to the Homer cluster, we can clock this around six hundred teraflops.”  Tony enjoyed getting back into the sweet flow of science, made sweeter by the annoyed look Captain Ass-merica was giving him.

 

Bruce chuckled.  “All I packed was a tooth brush.”

 

 “You know, you should come by Stark Tower sometime.  Top ten floors, all R and D. You'd love it, it's Candy Land.”

 

 “Thanks, but the last time I was in New York I kind of broke . . . Harlem.”  He shifted awkwardly.

 

“Well, I promise a stress free environment.  No tension.  No surprises.”

 

He took his electrified magnetic screwdriver and stuck it in Bruce’s arm pit.

 

“Ow!”

 

“Hey!”

 

 _Daddy_ came Maria’s exasperated sigh.

 

“Nothing?”

 

 “Are you nuts?”

 

He ignored Rogers.  “You really have got a lid on it, haven't you?  What's your secret?  Mellow jazz?  Bongo drums? Huge bag of weed?”

 

 “Is everything a joke to you?”

 

Captain Wet Towel.  “Funny things are.”

 

“Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn't funny.”  He turned quickly to Bruce.  “No offense, doctor.”

 

“No, it - it's alright.  I wouldn't have come aboard if I couldn't handle pointy things.”

 

“You're tiptoeing, big man.  You need to strut.”  He snagged his smuggled blueberries.

 

“And you need to focus on the problem, Mr. Stark.”

 

 _What’s_ with _this guy?_

 

The twins didn’t answer.

 

“You think I'm not?  Why did Fury call us and why now?  Why not before?  What isn't he telling us?  I can't do the equation unless I have all the variables.”

 

“You think Fury's hiding something?”

 

“He's a spy.  Captain, he's _the_ spy.  His secrets have secrets.”  He gestured towards Bruce.   “It's bugging him too, isn't it?”

 

Bruce looked about ready to Hulk out just to get out of there.  “Uh, I just wanna finish my work here and . . . .”  He trailed off.

 

“Doctor?”

 

“'A warm light for all mankind to share', Loki's jab at Fury about the cube.”

 

“I heard it.”

 

Bruce accepted a blueberry _._ “Well, I think that was meant for you.  Even if Barton didn't post that, it was all over the news.”

 

“The Stark Tower?  That big ugly-“ Tony looked, daring him. “-building in New York?”

 

“It's powered by arc reactor, self sustaining energy source.  That building will run itself for what, a year?”

 

“That's just the prototype.  I'm kind of the only name in clean energy right now.”

 

Bruce turned back to Cap _._  “So why didn't SHIELD bring him in on the Tesseract project?  I mean, what are they doing in the energy business in the first place?”

 

“I should probably look into that once my decryption program finishes breaking into all of SHIELD's secure files.”

 

Rogers looked about ready to have a little righteousness panic attack.“I'm sorry, did you say . . . ?”

 

“Jarvis has been running it since I hit the bridge.  In a few hours we'll know every dirty secret SHIELD has ever tried to hide.  Blueberry?”

 

He refused.  Asshole.“Yet you're confused about why they didn't want you around?”

 

“An intelligence organization that fears intelligence?  Historically, not awesome.”

 

"I think Loki's trying to wind us up.  This is a man who means to start a war, and if don't stay focused, he'll succeed.  We have orders, we should follow them.”  He looked slightly put out about it.

 

“Following is not really my style.”

 

“And you're all about style, aren't you?”

 

_Oh, no.  Don’t you dare-_

 

“Of the people in this room, which one is; a) wearing a spangly outfit, and b) not of use?”

 

Rogers looked down self consciously, even as he swelled like a bullfrog.

 

Bruce cut into what was probably going to be the pissing contest of Tony’s life.  “Steve, tell me none of this smells a little funky to you?”

 

“Just find the cube,” Rogers mumbled as he stalked out.

 

 **“** _That's_ the guy my dad never shut up about?  Wondering if they shouldn't have kept him on ice.”

 

Why _must you make your own life so difficult?_

 

“The guy's not wrong about Loki.  He does have the jump on us.”

 

“What he's got is an ACME dynamite kit.  It's gonna blow up in his face, and I'm gonna be there when it does.”

 

He sighed.  “And I'll read all about it.”

 

_Yeah, right._

 

“Uh-huh.  Or you'll be suiting up like the rest of us.”

 

“Ah, see.  I don't get a suit of armor.  I'm exposed, like a nerve.  It's a nightmare.”

 

“You know, I've got a cluster of shrapnel, trying every second to crawl its way into my heart.”  He tapped the arc reactor.  “This stops it.  This little circle of light.  It's part of me now, not just armor.  It's a terrible privilege.”

 

“But you can control it.”

 

“Because I learned how.”

 

“It's different.”

 

 “Hey, I've read all about your accident.  That much gamma exposure should have killed you.”

 

“So you're saying that the Hulk, the other guy, saved my life?  That's nice.  It's a nice sentiment.  Save it for what?”

 

“I guess we'll find out.”

 

“You may not enjoy that.”

 

“You just might.”

 

 

 

He and Bruce were still puttering around with illegally-downloaded files when Fury swept in like the angry pirate he was.

 

 “What are you doing, Mr. Stark?”

 

“Uh...kind of been wondering the same thing about you.”

 

“You're supposed to be locating the Tesseract.”

 

“We are, the model's locked and we're sweeping for the signature now.  When we get a hit, we'll have the location within half a mile,” Bruce supplied.

 

“And you'll get your Cube back, no muss, no fuss.  What is Phase 2?”

 

Rogers stormed in, plunking a chunky gun down on the counter.“Phase 2 is SHIELD used the cube to make weapons.Sorry, the computer was moving a little slow for me.”

 

_Oh really, Captain Sass?_

 

“Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract.  This does not mean that we're-“

 

“I'm sorry, Nick.”  He slid the blue prints around, blood boiling.  “What were you lying?”

 

“I was wrong, Director.  The world hasn't changed a bit.”

 

The door slid open again, revealing Thor and Natalasha.

 

Bruce turned to her.  “Did you know about this?”

 

She looked nervous, more so than he’d ever seen her.  “You wanna think about removing yourself from this environment, doctor?”

 

“I was in Calcutta, I was pretty well removed.”

 

“Loki's manipulating you.”

 

“And you've been doing what exactly?”

 

_Ohh, smooth Uncle Bruce._

 

“You didn't come here because I bat my eyelashes at you-“

 

“Yes, and I'm not leaving because suddenly you get a little twitchy.  I'd like to know why SHIELD is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction.”

 

They waited.  For something.

 

Fury apparently.

 

“Because of him.”

 

The Asgardian looked offended by the accusatory finger.  “Me?”

 

“Last year earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge mass that _leveled_ a small town.  We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly - _hilariously_ \- out gunned.”

 

 “My people want nothing but peace with your planet.”

 

“But you're not the only people out there, are you?  And, you're not the only threat.  The world's filling up with people who can't be matched, they can't be controlled.”

 

“Like you controlled the Cube?”

 

“Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies.  It is the signal to all the realms that the earth is ready for a higher form of war.”

 

“You forced our hand.  We had to come up with something.”

 

“A nuclear deterrent, cause that always calms everything right down.”

 

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?”

 

“I'm sure if he still made weapons, Stark would be neck deep-“

 

“Wait!  Wait!  Hold on!  How is this now about me?”

 

“I'm sorry, isn't everything?”

 

_Ouch._

 

“I thought humans were more evolved than this.”

 

“Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?”

 “You speak of control, yet you court chaos.”

 

“It's his M.O., isn't it?  I mean, what are we, a team?  No, no, no.  We're a chemical mixture that makes chaos.  We're - we're a time-bomb.”

 

“You need to step away.”

 

“Why shouldn't they guy let off a little steam?”  He slung an arm around Rogers’s ridiculously broad shoulders, who promptly slung it off.

 

“You know damn well why!  Back off!”

 

“Oh, I'm starting to want you to make me.”

 

_So it’s tension of the sexual kind?_

_Uhhh, yeah.  Very sexual._

 

“Yeah, big man in a suit of armor.  Take that off, what are you?”

 

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

 

“I know guys with none of that worth ten of you.  I've seen the footage.  The only thing you really fight for is yourself.  You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you.”

 

“I think I would just cut the wire.”

 

Rogers had a very unattractive sneer, no matter what his dick said.“Always a way out.  You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero.”

 

“A hero, like you?  You're a laboratory experiment, Rogers.  Everything special about you came out of a bottle.”

 

_You assholes are going to to regret this._

 

“Put on the suit, let's go a few rounds.”

 

Thor let out a great booming laugh, filled with condescension.  “You people are so petty.  And tiny.”

 

“Agent Romanoff, would you escort Dr. Banner back to his-“

 

 “Where?  You rented my room.”

 

“The cell was just-“

 

“In case you needed to kill me, but you can't!  I know, I tried.”  Silence. “I got low, I didn't see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spit it out.  So I moved on, I focused on helping other people.  I was good until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk.  You wanna know my secret, Agent Romanoff?  You wanna know how I stay calm?”

 

He had picked up the scepter.

 

“Dr. Banner, put down the scepter.”

 

The proximity alarms when off just in time.

 

“Sorry, kids.  You don't get to see my party trick after all.” He almost looked disappointed.

 

“Located the Tesseract?”

 

He piped up.“I can get there faster.”

 

“Look, all of us-“

 

He didn’t need to listen to this.  Rogers grabbed for him.

 

“You're not going alone!”

 

He shook the hand off. **“** You gonna stop me?”

 

“Put on the suit, let's find out.”

 

“I'm not afraid to hit an old man. “

 

They were at each other’s throats.

 

“Put on the suit!”

 

The air exploded and the klaxon went off.

 

“Put on the suit!”

 

“Yep!”

 

 

 

 “ _Stark, I'm here!”_

 

“Good. Let’s see what we got.  I gotta get this super conducting cooling system back online before I can access the rotors and work on dislodging the debris.  I need you to get to that engine control panel and tell me which relays are in overload position.  What's it look like in there?”

 

Rogers sighed in defeat. _“It seems to run on some form of electricity.”_

 

_Now’s not the time for smart remarks, Dad._

_Work with him._

 

“Well, you're not wrong.”

 

 

 

_“The relays are intact.  What's our next move?”_

 

“Even if I clear the rotors, this thing won't re-engage without a jump.  I'm gonna have to get in there and push.”

 

_“Well if that thing gets up to speed, you'll get shredded!”_

 

“Then stay in the control unit and reverse polarity long enough to disengage mag-”

 

“ _Speak English.”_

_Daddy, don’t._

 

Tony bit back a scathing retort.

 

“See that red lever?  It'll slow the rotors down long enough for me to get out.  Stand by it, wait for my word.”

He heard shooting begin, but he was too immersed in the engine.  If he stopped to look, he’d be confetti.

 

“Cap, need the lever.”

 

“ _I need a minute here!”_

 

“Lever!  Now!”

 

The rotors slowed not a millisecond too late.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fury chucked a set of blood-splattered trading cards at him.

 

 “These were in Phil Coulson's jacket. Guess he never did get you to sign them.  We're dead in the air up here.  Our communications, location of the cube, Banner, Thor.  I got nothing for you.  Lost my one good eye.  Maybe I had that coming.  Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract.  I never put all my chips on that number though, because I was playing something even riskier.  There was an idea, Stark knows this, called The Avengers Initiative.  The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people, see if they could become something more.  See if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could.  Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea, in heroes.  Well, it's an old fashioned notion.”

 

Fury leaned over the backs of their chairs.  “You’ll both have kids; it’s in your files.  Do this for them.”

 

Stark bolted out of his chair and ran for the door.

 

_Papa, give him a few moments, then go after him._

_Pops, it’s important._

 

 

 

“Did he have a voice?”

 

“No.  SHEILD doesn’t recruit people with voices anymore unless they’re specialists, stopped in the fifties . . . .”

 

“I'm sorry.  He seemed like a good man.”

 

“He was an idiot.”

 

“Why?  For believing?”

 

“For taking on Loki alone.”

 

“He was doing his job.”

 

“He was out of his league.  He should have waited.  He should have...”

 

“Sometimes there isn't a way out, Tony.”

 

“Right.  How did that work for him?”

 

 “Is this the first time you've lost a soldier?”

 

Stark looked incensed. “We are not soldiers!  I am _not_ marching to Fury's fife.”

 

“Neither am I.  He's got the same blood on his hands that Loki does, but right now we gotta put that behind us and get this done.  Now Loki needs a power source, if we can put together a list . . . .”

 

“He made it personal.”

 

“That's not the point.”

 

_Yeah, it is._

 

“That is the point.  That's Loki's point.  He hit us all right where we live.  Why?”

 

“To tear us apart.”

 

Stark was mumbling as he worked through his ideas.  “He had to conquer his greed, but he knows he has to take us out to win, right?   That's what he wants.  He wants to beat us; he wants to be seen doing it.  He wants an audience.”

 

“Right.  I caught his act in Stuttgart.”

 

Stark was getting warmed up.  “Yeah.  That's just previews, this is...this is opening night.  And Loki, he's a full-tail diva.  He wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a monument built to the skies with his name plastered-“

Steve raised his eyebrows, but Stark seemed to have figured it out.

 

“Son of a bitch.”

 

 

 

He ducked into the room where Romanoff had taken Barton.

 

 “Time to go.”

 

“Go where?”

 

“I'll tell you on the way. Can you fly one of those jets?”

 

Barton walked in from the bathroom.  “I can,” he said, determined glare on his face.

Steve looked at Romanoff, who nodded her approval.

 

“Got a suit?”

 

Barton nodded.

 

“Then suit up.”

 

“Who are we doing this for?”

 

The question surprised him.  “Excuse me?”

 

“You heard me.”

 

Steve bit his lip.  “Do you have a voice?”

 

Again he nodded.  Romanoff reached out a hand and squeezed his wrist.

 

“What’s their name?”

 

Barton shared a glance with Romanoff.  “I call her Eyas.  The term for a baby hawk.”

 

“Then do it for Eyas.”

 

 

 

“You guys aren't authorized to be in here.”

 

_You go Pops, kick ass._

 

“Son, just don't.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“Sir, the Mark 7 is not ready for deployment.”_

 

“Then skip the spinning rims, we’re on the clock.”

 

He landed roughly outside.  To think that only twelve hours ago, he’d been headed in to meet Pepper.  Now the fate of the world was resting on his shoulders, and the shoulders of five other people, two of which were missing.  And only two of them really knew each other.

 

_I need popcorn.  This is a showdown for the ages._

_Shut it._

 

“Please tell me you’re going to appeal to my humanity,” Loki drawled as he made his way across the sunken living room.

 

“Uh, actually I’m planning on threatening you.”

 

“You should have left you armor on for that.”

 

“Yeah.  It’s seen a bit of mileage, and you have the Glowstick of Destiny.”

 

The Asgardian wore a self-satisfied smirk as he gazed down at the sceptere.  Really, was that what it looked liked when he was pleased with himself?

 

  _Sorta._

_Ri, you can’t talk, you look exactly the same as him.  Stupid little dance and everything._

_No, I don’t.  I don’t have an inventing dance, what are you talking about?_

_And you have the nerve call me ridiculous._

 

“Would you like a drink?”

 

“Stalling me won’t change anything.”

 

“No, no.  Threatening.  No drink, you sure?  I’m havin’ one.”  He moved behind the bar.

 

 _We’ve got to stop drinking, Daddy_ Maria sing-songed.

 

 _We’ve got to get out of Daddy’s business_ Tony sing-songed right back.

 

Peter snickered.

 

“The Chitauri are coming.  Nothing will change that.  What have I to fear?”

 

_The Avengers, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes._

_I’m not saying that._

_But you must._

 

“The Avengers.”  The Asgardian looked confused.  “It’s what we call ourselves, sorta like a team.  ‘Earth’s mightiest heroes’ type of thing.”

 

 _DADDY_ Maria squawked as Peter roared with laughter.

 

Loki smirked tightly.  “Yes.  I’ve met them.”

 

“Yeah.  Takes us a while to get any traction, I’ll give you that one.  But let’s do a headcount here.  Your brother, the demigod.”  He slipped one of his bracelets on.  “The supersoldier, a living legend that _kinda_ lives up to the legend.  A man with _breathtaking_ anger management issues.  A couple of master assassins.  And you, big fella, you’ve managed to piss of every single one of ‘em.”

 

“That was the plan.”

 

_Ugh, can we kill this guy already?_

_Shhh, it’s getting good._

“Not a great plan.  When they come - and they will - they’ll come for you.”

 

“I have an army.”

 

“We have a Hulk.”

 

_BOOM._

 

“Oh, I thought the beast had wandered off-“

 

“You’re missing the point.  There’s no throne.  There is no version of this where you come out on top.  Maybe your army comes, and _maybe_ it’s too much for us, but it’s all on you.  ‘Cause if we can’t protect the Earth, you’ll be damn well sure we avenge it.”

 

_Well done Daddy.  Oh, look out._

 

“How will your friends have time for me when they’re so busy fight you?”

 

Loki brought the scepter up, and just as Tony was saying his goodbyes, it clinked against the metal of the arc reactor.

 

_Can’t get through the metal, right?_

_Right_ Peter supplied.

 

He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as Loki glared at the crystal.

 

“This usually works.”

 

“Well, performance issues.  Not uncommon.  One out of five-“

 

Loki grabbed him by the neck and threw him to the side

 

“JARVIS, anytime now,” he grumbled as Loki grabbed him again, pulling him up. 

 

_What’s with this guy and face squishing?_

 

“You will all fall before me!”

 

The door was opening; he could see the suit-

 

He crashed through the window, bits of glass glinting in the sunlight.  He heard the repulsors fire up, and he turned in mid-air.

 

The suit folded around him, and it was like coming home.  He gained control again ten feet from the ground.  He blasted straight back up.

 

“And there’s one other person you’ve pissed off.  His name is Phil.”

 

He gave Loki a repulsor blast to the face.  For all his hard work, of course.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _“Well, we got its attention.  What the hell is Step Two?”_ Stark shouted through his comm unit.

 

No one answered, as they were busy trying to subdue the ground forces.  Agent Romanoff had liberated one of the alien’s blasters, and was shooting it like she’d trained with it (or probably trained to use any weapon she got her hands on).  Barton was shooting and jumping and obviously his taking pent-up aggression out on the . . . things.

 

It was all so surreal.  He was having a better time adjusting to the knowledge that aliens existed and wanted to destroy the Earth better than he was responding to being in the twenty-first century.

 

Suddenly lighting blasted through the aliens, and Thor landed heavily next to a taxicab.

 

“What’s the story upstairs?”

 

“The power surrounding the cube is impenetrable.”

 

_“Thor’s right, we gotta deal with these guys.”_

 

Romanoff was breathing heavily, but sounded ready to take on the world.  “How do we do this?”

 

 _Maybe as a team?_   Peter said, far too sweetly to be trusted.

 

“As a team,” Steve agreed.

 

“I have unfinished business with Loki.”

 

“Yeah?”  Barton was scowling as he scavenged for arrows.  “Get in line.”

 

“Save it.  Loki’s gonna keep this fight focused on us and that’s what we need.  Without him these things could run wild.  We got Stark up top, he’s gonna need us to-“

 

The tremors of an over-worked engine echoed through the sound of rubble burning.  Banner was riding an ancient motor bike, which was puttering through the debris.

 

“So, this all seems . . . horrible.”

 

Romanoff was regarding him carefully.  “I’ve seen worse.”

 

“Sorry.”  He defiantly sounded like he meant it.

 

She smiled faintly.  “No, we could use a little worse.”

 

“Stark, we got ‘em.”

 

_“Banner?”_

 

“Just like you said.”

 

_“Then tell him to suit up.  I’m bringing the party to you.”_

 

The flying suit of armor rounded a corner, bringing with it the massive _thing_ that looked like some sort of lizard/fish that could fly, covered in metal plates.

 

“I don’t see how that’s a party.”

 

Banner stared towards where the beast was beginning to scrape along the pavement.

 

“Doctor Banner, now might be a really good time for you to get angry.”

 

“That’s my secret, Cap,” Banner turned back for a moment.  “I’m always angry.”  He shifted as he turned towards the creature, smashing a fist into its jaw.

 

The metal plates snapped off as the creature-thing when face up.  Stark shouted a warning, then shot a missile-type thing.  Steve had just enough time to raise his shield to cover himself and Romanoff before the projectile exploded.  The carcass went careening off of the side of the bridge.

 

The six of them gathered in a circle, subconsciously protecting one another’s backs as they listened to the combined shouts from the civilians and screams from the alien army.

 

_Quick, someone take a picture. Avengers ASSEMBLE._

_Avengers assemble?  Is that something someone’s supposed to say?_

_Papa, you didn’t say it.  When Captain America doesn’t say ‘Avengers Assemble’ there’s a huge fight over who does get to say it._

_I got to say it this time_ Peter boasted gleefully.

 

“Guys,” Romanoff said warningly.

 

Out of the portal were _two_ more of the huge things, backed up by more smaller aliens.

 

Stark spoke up first.

 

“Call it, Captain.”

 

_Aw, yea.  I ship it._

_Peter, don’t say that._

_What are you two on about?_

_He’s so obtuse._

_Yeah_ Maria sighed.

 

 

 

_“I can close it! Can anybody hear me? I can shut the portal down!”_

 

“Do it!”

 

_“No, wait!”_

 

“Stark, these things are still coming!”

 

_“I got a nuke coming in, it's gonna blow in less than a minute.  And I know just where to put it.”_

_Nuclear warhead._

 

 “Stark, you know that's a one way trip.”

 

He didn’t bother responding.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Daddy._

_Sorry, baby girl.  Guess you weren’t meant to be._

_Dad._

_Stop it, you two.  Isn’t this hard enough?_

 

 

 

~~~~

 

 

 

Steve didn’t know how long they stood there, waiting for Stark to emerge.  It felt like another seventy years incased in ice.

 

“Close it.”

 

The stream of energy from the top of the Tower slowed and died.  The portal seemed to suck back in on itself.

 

It didn’t feel like they had won.  War never did.  He only felt loss.

 

He didn’t get to apologize.

 

_He was a good man, no matter what I said._

Is _a good man._

_What?_

_Look up._

The portal was rippling slowly, and in the second before it disappeared entirely, a small figure encased in metal fell through.

 

“Son of a gun!”

 

 “He's not slowing down.”

 

Great.

 

Hulk spotted him too.  There was a roar, and a crash, as Hulk caught Stark from his free-fall.  He jumped and laid him on the asphalt.

 

Steve and Thor rushed over, Thor ripping the golden faceplate off when they reached the prone figure of Iron Man.

 

Stark’s face was still, too peaceful for sleeping.  Steve ran a hand over the chest plate.  The glowing circle had burned out.

 

Is _, Papa._

 

Hulk roared, and Stark jumped, the circle flaring to life.

 

“What the hell?  What just happened?  Please tell me nobody kissed me.”

 

 His lips felt numb as he said it.  “We won.”

 

 “Alright.  Hey.  Alright.  Good job, guys.  Let's just not come in tomorrow.  Let's just take a day.  Have you ever tried shawarma?  There's a shawarma joint about two blocks from here.  I don't know what it is, but I wanna try it,” Stark blathered.

 

 “We're not finished yet,” Thor looked ominously towards the Tower.

 

“And then shawarma after?”

 

Stark sounded so pathetic Steve just had to laugh.

 

 

 

They managed to organize themselves into an intimidating formation just as Loki woke up.

 

 _“_ If it's all the same to you, I'll have that drink now.”

 

_Someone punch him._

 

 

 

~~__ ~~

 

 

 

After they had a bit of time to eat, clean up, and get the Hulk to turn back into Bruce, they convened in Central Park to say their goodbyes.

 

The World Security Council had consented to releasing the Tesseract into Asgardian custody (obviously still smarting after the whole “Nuke Manhattan” thing), as well as Loki, as Asgard was believed to be better equipped to control both.  Tony could tell Fury wasn’t pleased with losing his toy, but he didn’t do anything outside of his usual glowering as they loaded the Tesseract into Thor’s handy-dandy transport tube.  Thor nodded in acknowledgement of them all then twisted his end, and he and his brother disappearing in shafts of blue light.

 

They said their goodbyes.  Barton and Natalasha were going back to SHEILD (though really, Barton needed serious therapy, and both could probably use a vacation).  Bruce had consented to taking up residence and a lab at the “A” Tower as everyone was calling it now.  Rogers was headed out, planning on seeing the world.

 

They seemed to have silently agreed not to acknowledge what they had said on the Helicarrier.

 

“Headed out to complete the Great American Road Trip?” Tony asked, shaking Cap’s hand.

 

“I suppose that’s what it’s called now.”  Cap looked more at peace than Tony had seen before, but the man still looked troubled.  Probably the whole “Man Out of Time” thing.

 

_Tell him about interstate culture._

 

“Oh, yeah, hey, the growth of the car, and the introduction of the interstate system, that’s something you should look into.  A lot of culture shifts happened in the fifties and sixties because people could easily get pretty much anywhere.”

 

Cap looked shocked.  “Well, uh, thank you, Stark.  I’ll look that up.”

 

“If you swing by Detroit, head to the Henry Ford Museum.  It’s filled with cars and Americana.  Perfect for a crash course in the culture shifts, and well.  Cars.  I love cars.”

 

_Shit, now he’s gonna think I’m weird.  I’ll just be shutting up now._

_Dad, look at him.  Does he look weirded out?_

 

He had to admit Rogers didn’t.  He was smiling, and looked touched.   “I’ll make sure to check it out.”

 

 _Oh_ , _God.  He better not go with you.  You’d never let him leave the 1965 Lotus-Ford Racer.  You’d probably try and buy it.  Again._

 

He couldn’t keep himself from laughing at Peter’s words. 

 

Cap also had obviously heard something funny, as he was nearly bent double, laughing at something Tony couldn’t hear.

 

“Sorry,” Cap wheezed.  “My son-“

 

“Yeah.  Mine too.”

 

_You two are so obtuse._

 

Cap straightened and blinked, looking towards the sky.  “What?”

 

Tony met Rogers’s eyes.

 

_Finally.  I’m ready to be born, please._

 

“Peter and Maria?” Cap whispered, wonder in his eyes.

 

He wasn’t crying, really.  “Peter and Maria,” Tony agreed.

 

Rogers – _Steve_ – lunged out and grabbed Tony, hosting him up and pulling him against his chest.

 

“It’s _you_ , it was always _you_ , that’s why I never-“ Steve was sobbing in his neck.

 

The others were staring at them, but Tony didn’t care.

 

This was the father of his children.

 

_Well, other father._

 

He was laughing, and Steve was laughing, and the twins were laughing.

 

He’d never known how perfect it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, the Henry Ford is like the best museum to explain the history of the last century in America. They have this timeline exhibit . . . . Ugh, I'm drooling just thinking about it. There's like an air raid shelter from WWII, and a hippie commune . . . . And haft the place is filled with cars, planes, trains, ect. Kinda a great place to start if you're not familiar with the finer aspects of American innovation. It's just filled with old people pointing at things and telling their grandkids "We used to have one of those!" It's great for seeing the differences between generations, and I think Steve would have benefitted from a visit. Maybe I need to write "Captain America and Iron Man Go to the Henry Ford", ha!
> 
> Thanks for staying with me this far! Just the epilogue to go.
> 
> (Tell me if anyone's interested in possible smut in the epilogue)


	5. Epilogue: And Know They Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for smut and science!

Steve clutched the edge of the couch, trying not to crack the underlying wood in his anticipation.  Maria was sending a constant stream of _Stop worrying, everything will go fine, stop worrying, we love you._   Peter was quieter, but both of them were tense.

 

Tony and Bruce were about twenty feet away, pouring over a lab table filled with beakers and pipettes and Petri dishes, and a ton of things he couldn’t name.  The computer screens overhead were displaying microscopic images of human eggs.

 

_Stop worrying, Pops.  The cross-engineering took; they’re just looking for viable specimens._

_Peter, you mean us._

_Well, half us._

_I am insulted.  You called me a ‘viable specimen’.  What the hell.  You owe me like eighty cases of motor oil.  And toaster waffles._

_We’re America’s First Family, arguably the richest and most powerful family in the world, and your favorite food is toaster waffles._

_Yes.  Glad you were paying attention.  Don’t forget my motor oil._

 

The twins had been doing a lot of this sort of rambling, alternating between scientific discussions he barely understood, quite tension, and nonsensical ramblings such as these.

 

He fussed with his wedding band.  Gold-titanium alloy, the same metal used by Tony to make his suits.  _“Pretty sturdy, though.  It’ll stand up to a supersoldier swinging a shield around and punching bad guys, plus it’s a piece of Daddy,”_ Maria had supplied when they were looking into a ring for Steve.  By that time Tony had already been wearing the vibranium ring that Steve had proposed with, after careful instructions from Maria on how to scrape off enough metal from the shield and not compromise the structural integrity. 

 

Steve had already busted the ring twice on missions, and once in an arm-wrestling match with Thor.  Tony really hadn’t gotten mad, because Steve was careful to collect all the pieces, and Tony simply melted them down and recast the ring.  The vibranium thankfully hadn’t been affected at all, though Tony had developed an annoying habit (to others, not Steve) of banging his ring on the table when he drummed his fingers.  Fury often complained that he needed his conference tables to have gyroscopes installed.  Steve’s husband simply drummed harder.

 

And wow, how amazing it was to call Tony his husband.  They’d been married for four years, but Steve knew he was never going to be completely used to it.  Waking up every morning to a scruffy, muzzy Tony was one of the best feelings in the world.  Tony often complained that Steve rated cuddling higher than sex sometimes, but Steve saw it this way: Tony had sex with a lot of people in the past.  He’d never actually cuddled with anyone before Steve.

 

_Dad, get used to it.  Maria’s just as clingy._

_Excuse me, Mister ‘Spiders Don’t Need Kisses’.  What’s worse is we were three when you said that._

_Uh, who was the one who responded ‘Great, more for me’?_

_I need affection, Peter._

_‘Cause you middle name literally means ‘Attention Whore’._

_‘Antonia’ means ‘worthy of praise’.  That means I need worship._

_Who are you, Brandt?  Anyway, stop bring up shit we said we were three.  Must I remind you of the Screwdriver Incident?_

_Screwdriver Incident?_ had been both Steve and Tony’s response.

 

_You asked us what we wanted for our third birthday, I wanted a tarantula and Ria wanted her own tool set._

_We never wanted a pony._

_Yeah.  Anyway, I got like six tarantulas, and Ri got an entire Craftsman warehouse, seems like.  Dad, you gave her this special screwdriver with interchangeable tips and ‘You and I are the same, Baby Girl.  We fix, and when we can’t fix, we improve.’  It’s fucking adorable.  Anyway, we were locked out of a team meeting-_

_Fury is an asshole._

_We wern't part of the team yet!  We were still considered toddlers!  Just ‘cause you could dismantle the security protocols didn’t mean you should have.  But Ria got us in, and you know, we were sitting on your laps, drawing and being adorable, when she threatens me with her screwdriver.   She literally pointed it at me and said ‘Fratricide’._

_Well, that’s the proper term for the murder of a sibling!_

_Do you hear yourself?  Anyway, after you two told her off while trying to keep from laughing, and she say, no seriously, ‘he’ll heal.’  I’LL HEAL?  Who says that?_

_But you would!_

_Not the point!  You hang out with Hema and Auntie Tasha too much._

_Uh, A) Hema was still en utero, and B) I live with three VERY masculine men.  I need girl time._

_You hate going shopping._

_Girl time is more than that.  Padma’s the only one who could handle herself in a mall, anyway.  You and Brandt terrorize the food court people, Hema steals shit for sport, and you know how much I love terrorizing the idiots at the ‘Idiot Bar’.  Girl time is more about plotting ways to overthrow the patriarchy._

 

These were the kind of conversations that had dominated his life the past nine years.  Once parents met, your children could tell you so much more about your family life in the future.  Steve had always been curious as to why his children had been especially cryptic, but considering he thought they would be born to a strong, tiny brunette in the early fifties, it was a lot to get used to.  Instead they were going to be born to a strong, tiny brunet in the early 2020’s.

 

_Stop calling Daddy tiny._

_Ignore her, she’s five foot zero._

_With twelve feet of attitude!_

_Yet you can’t reach the highest shelf when it matters._

_I will stab you with my screwdriver._

 

_Maria, don’t stab your brother._

_But Papa-_

_No buts._

Peter snickered.

 

“That should do it,” Steve heard Bruce exclaim from over by the lab table.  “Only two viable specimens, but that’s what you need, yes?”

 

“Oh my God, Bruce, never let it be said you are not my favorite.   Thank you, I’m going to get my babies because of your help, you’re a magnificent creature-  As soon as you stop hearing Padma, I’m gonna give you a credit card with no limit and give you paid leave until you find her,” Tony babbled.

 

_Daddy, Uncle Bruce is not gonna find Pads until we’re three._

“Oh?” Tony asked.  “Pater and Maria are gonna be three when you bring Padma home.”

 

Bruce looked intrigued.  “You never told me that.”  He waited a moment for Padma to respond.  “Well, at three they wouldn’t remember much.”

 

 _Is that supposed to insult me?  I just so happen to be a genius_ Maria huffed.

 

Both Steve and Tony laughed.  “How did Bruce find her, anyway?”

 

_The town where Padma was born was basically blown up.  Uncle Bruce was part of the team of responders, as Hulk of course, but they declared everyone dead, so it took him awhile to calm down enough to phase back.  What finally forced him to phase back was Padma’s crying.  Her family was dead, but her birth parents had stuffed her in the fireplace to protect her from the blast.  She was about six months old.  Uncle Bruce dug her out, and kinda just held on to her the entire ride back to the States for her medical exam.  He was just holding her while waiting around-_

_And us being the shits we are, had broken out with Brandt, and were searching for you.  We found Uncle Bruce holding a baby instead.  And Maria, being Maria, asks if the baby was our new cousin._

_Well, she was!_

 

“Bruce, want me to spoil it for you?”

 

“Nah, I’ll just be surprised,” Bruce smiled good-naturedly.  He glanced back at the lab table, and seeing the spread on equipment seemed to realize what the new step was.  “Well, I’ve done all I can for you two.  Tony, you know how to implant them in the arto-utero?  Good, well, congratulations!” and he quickly made his escape, unbuttoned lab coat snapping with the sudden movement.

 

“What was that all about?” Steve asked as he carefully approached his husband, who had turned back to the table and was gently caressing a lone test tube.  Tony’s shoulders were tense, matching the nervousness Steve felt.  He wasn’t alone in this, then.  “Is this . . . them?” he asked, pointing at the tube.

 

Tony jumped as Steve pressed against his side, but relaxed immediately.  “Well, my half of them.  Wanna see?”  He didn’t wait for a response before fiddling with a microscopic arm, and a second later the screen above the table displayed an image of two human eggs, slightly grey and clinging to the edge of the tube.

 

“Your half?  How do we add my . . . oh.”

 

A look of vague indignation crossed Tony’s face.  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.  Not even pregnant yet, and he already thinks I’m fat.”

 

“Tony, you know you will not be considered actually pregnant, right?”

 

Tony huffed the same way Maria did when she was trying to act superior.  “Okay, Rogers, but I am still taking advantage of mood swings, foot rubs, and sending you out for ice cream at 3 a.m.”

 

Steve pulled Tony against his chest, and he melted, burying his cheek in the dip between his pectorals.  Steve couldn’t resist adding, “I’d be happy to do all that, but you’d have to give up coffee . . . .”

 

“Oh _God_ , no, I take it back.”

 

“But it would be for the _babies_.”

 

Tony shifted in his arms, giving him a blissed-out smirk.  Steve would never _actually_ ask Tony to give up coffee.  He become slightly more dependent on it after he quit drinking after they got married, plus his sleep schedule was much more regular which ment he got more sleep now.  The least Steve and the kids could deal with was a Tony who couldn’t operate without caffeine, as opposed to other more harmful addictions.

 

“Well, we got my half done, now all we need is your half,” Tony continued, with a business-like air, but there was a wicked gleam in his eyes.

 

“Yeah, how _are_ we gonna get my half?”

 

“You know basic reproduction, yes?”

 

“Tony, nothing about this process is average.”

 

“No, but think.  What do we need to complete this?”

 

Steve thought back on all the discussions Tony and Peter had with Maria chiming in here and there.  Peter and Maria would be the first successful children to be conceived using the DNA of two male parents.  Peter was better versed in biology while Maria would take after Tony’s engineering genius, so Peter’s instruction had been painstakingly transferred to JARVIS as Tony and Bruce had set about making the twins possible.

 

While there was no way to create a child from their sperm cells, as they were both men and Tony had been rendered basically infertile after the palladium poisoning, there were other methods that had never been tried before.  From what Steve understood of what he had witnessed, Tony had found that, while his sperm was ineffectual, his chromosomal sequence had not been compromised.

 

Tony had somehow obtained a human ovum (where he got it, Steve probably would never know), and had worked with Bruce to re-program the ovum to produce human eggs using the Tony Stark X chromosome.  It had taken ages, but they had finally managed it, and has saturated it with LH hormones to make it produce eggs at a far accelerated rate aside from the normal one every twenty-eight days.  Many of the eggs that had been produced were defective and would not survive fertilization, but Tony and Bruce had spent the last several hours searching for the two undamaged that they had known would be in the pile.

 

And there they were, so the next step would be to-

 

“Oh.  _Oh._   Uhh, when do you want to-“ Steve stammered, suddenly aware how Peter and Maria had faded politely into the background.

 

“My, my, Captain, I having seen you this flustered since I first had you naked in my bed.  Anyway, why should straight couples get all the fun?” Tony said with a lascivious smirk, picking up a plastic specimen cup – for _Steve_ – and tugging him over to the couch.

 

“Wha-what?” Steve stuttered, already throbbing in his jeans.

 

“You know,” Tony smirked, pushing Steve down and straddling his thighs.  Steve’s hands automatically went to rest on the curve of Tony’s ass.  “They say half the fun of a baby is making it.” 

 

With those magic words, Tony pulled Steve down by the collar of his shirt, and slid their open mouths together.

 

Steve was fairly certain that he would never be fully used to Tony’s kisses.  Tony kissed like he lived – full of emotion, fill of fire, unapologetic.  He was tender and dirty, raw and unbalanced, clever, vulnerable.  He laid everything bare, held nothing back, because he knew he could with Steve.  It had been an interesting journey, falling in love, but with the twin’s careful guidance, they had found the qualities that made them a strong, successful couple.  Tony had been able to push away any emotional hang-ups and had steadily accepted that Steve had fallen in love with him for himself, not because they heard the same children.  The kids had only served to push them together; they probably would have eventually found each other without them.

 

Tony wasted no time, grinding down, down, _down_ , working his hips in a rhythm that was only known by the two of them, a song and dance performed only for Steve.  He lifted himself, and twisted and curled and arched, smoothly undoing Steve’s fly, and reaching in to stroke him.

 

Clever calloused fingers that knew just what to do, when to twist and pull and add pressure and take it away to insure that Steve was driven mad.  Tony, more than anyone, could make Steve lose his mind, in the heat of an argument or the throes of ecstasy.

 

He stopped sucking lightly on Steve's tongue, and moved to kiss his collarbones, and mouth at the hard planes of his chest through the flimsy material of his t-shirt, moving steadily down to where Steve's cock arched and strained for the warmth it seemed to know would soon envelop it.

 

When Tony finally reached his cock, the both let out a low groan, the vibrations thrumming up through Steve's skeleton, rocking him to pieces that seemed to roll about inside a prison of over-heated, over-stimulated skin and ineffectual muscle that did no other work than work the bellows of his lungs and the lightly strung vocal cords over his larynx.

 

Tony hummed, something that suspiciously felt like “Shook Me All Night Long” _(“American thighs, Steve!  It’s perfect for us!  Where are you going?  Come baaaaaaack, I won’t say it again!”_ ), and worked his fingers around to fondle his balls.

 

Tony let go with a wet smack, and Steve whimpered at the loss, before Tony worked his way down the sides of Steve’s cock, sucking gently, and with big innocent eyes, sucked Steve’s left testicle into his mouth.

 

“Uuurgf, _Tony_ ,” Steve gasped as Tony worked him thoroughly in his mouth.  Sucking, tasting, testing the limits that only Tony Stark could.

 

He wasn’t going to last.  Tony had been so preoccupied with the ovum’s production that they hadn’t had sex in a week.  He’d not even masturbated, concerned with keeping his sperm count high.  With his elevated testosterone and high sex drive Tony sometimes couldn’t keep up with him.  It didn’t matter, Tony was so much more than sex, but the sex was undoubtedly fantastic.

 

But he hadn’t come in a week, so when Tony brought the hand holding the collection cup up to rub a thumb along the slit at the same time as he gently slid his pinkie finger into the tight ring of muscle, combined with the delicious pressure on this balls, he went off, spiraling into a galaxy that was alight with electronic blues and whiskey-tinted eyes, burnt metal and motor oil, and set alight the churning coals that burned hotly for Tony every second.

 

As he came down, galaxies turning to stardust and dawn, he became aware of how Tony had positioned the specimen cup to neatly catch all of Steve’s ejaculate.  The cup was filled with a few teaspoons’ worth of semen, and Tony was holding it up closely to his face to inspect it.

 

“Very good, Steve.” Tony murmured, dropping a chaste kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth.  He throbbed again.  “Oh no; much as I love your nonexistent refractory period, we have twins I would very much like to see in my lifetime.”

 

Tony carried Steve’s “contribution” reverently over to the lab while Steve carefully righted himself.

 

They had momentarily discussed the possibility of a surrogate, until the twins informed them that one wouldn’t be necessary.  Both of them had been slightly opposed to the idea of someone else carrying the twins even if it was physically impossible for men, so they both had been thrilled with Peter and Maria’s instructions on how to construct an artificial uterus, the “arto-utero”.  It was basically a sack, constructed in the inverted bell-shape of the uterus out of flexible carbon fiber, lined with blood samples extracted from both men.  There was an artificial feeding tube that would supply the twins with oxygen and liquid nutrients through their umbilical cords. 

 

Tony had rigged an entire system of straps, so both he and Steve would be able to wear the arto-utero in the position a pregnant woman would.  It wasn’t necessary to wear at all times, but Steve and Tony had agreed that they would try and keep it on when they were home at least.  They wanted the twins to have the physical connection and movements that infants usually experienced.  They would need to take it off when on missions or in public, but they had already come up with a list of comebacks for anything the other Avengers would have to say.

 

Clint would have lots to say about Tony’s new fanny pack, that was for sure.

 

When Steve had righted himself, he moved over to where Tony was loading up the eggs in a pipette, and depositing them with shaking hands into the arto-utero.  He handed Steve another, larger instrument that looked like a turkey baster to inject his semen.

 

Tony sealed the channel, and, making sure the nutrient-oxygen feed was attached, strapped it to his chest, and pulled Steve flush against his front.

 

“JARVIS,” Tony called, wrought with tension.

 

_“Sir, it will be sometime before conception occurs.”_

 

“It’d be better to verify this if you had a biological mom.”

 

_Biologically speaking, Dad, you are kinda our mom._

 

“Oh, shut up, you!” Tony fumed while Steve laughed at Peter’s commentary.

 

They were already nervous about the twin’s heath.  They hadn’t been specific, but from what it sounded like, there were some changes that happened during Tony’s DNA manipulation.  Nothing that would get them into Xavier’s, but smaller mutations defiantly outside the norm.  Nothing horrible, but they were still wary. 

 

The supersoldier serum had apparently affected Steve’s Y chromosome, so Peter would inherit many milder forms of Steve’s adaptations.  Excellent immune system, higher endurance, increased strength, increased flexibility and dexterity.  The small traces of serum would also enable Peter to survive _something_ that changed him.  They never told.  Something to do with spiders.

 

Maria’s health would be a more pressing concern.  Without the serum, she would inherit many of Steve and Tony’s terrible health issues.  An underdeveloped myocardium and a poor coronary artery would leave her prone to heart attacks and other issues.  They would need to give her a pacemaker as a teenager.  She would also have an ineffectual immune system when she would be little.  But she had assured them that, with proper nutrition and the best medical care (things Steve had never gotten), she would be okay.

 

_I keep myself alive out of spite, anyway._

 

Tony tugged them back over to the couch, and again pushing Steve down, crawled into his lap with this spine aligned with Steve’s sternum and his head tilted back on Steve’s shoulder.  Steve wrapped his arms around, interlacing their fingers over the arto-utero.  Steve pressed kisses to Tony’s closed eyelids, and they were still, quiet, waiting.

 

 _Remember, I’m supposed to be born first_ Maria said suddenly.

 

_And deliver us two weeks early; I’ll be ten pounds by then, she’ll only be six and a half.  Any longer than that and I’d squish her._

_Thanks for your concern._

 

“Is this it?  You’re . . . leaving now?”

 

_Your head, yes, but for the first time we’ll be there physically._

_Dad, Pops, you can’t become our parents if we aren’t allowed to be born._

 

“No, it’s just-“ Tony looked on the verge of tears.  “I’ll miss you two.”

 

Steve could get behind that.  He hadn’t been without them for about twenty years (only counting time awake), and, well, they comforted him.  They were reassuring and helped him see through anger or grief.  He felt a constant stream of love from them, and he knew it would be worse for Tony.  He was so much more fragile, and the love of the twins was one of the only things that had kept him together for over thirty years.

 

But having Peter make them run for their lives to catch him and wrestle until he made them stop with sloppy kisses, and having Maria sit in their laps and demand hugs and kisses and readings from automotive maintenance manuals, having Peter storm into their bedroom with Maria following behind and berating him for not knocking and them climbing in, snuggling into the safety of their fathers’ chests.  Having their teenage children be tied for first on the list of young scientists and inventors to watch yet would still get into arguments about who got Nutella and peanut butter on the kitchen counter and who would clean it up.

 

It was the time when the children stopped teaching their parents, and the parents would teach their children.

 

_Well. Bye._

_We’re gonna be there before you know it._

And in unison: _We love you._

There was a sudden absence.  Peter and Maria were gone from their heads, never to return.  Tony trembled and clutched the arto-utero closer. 

He was terrified, and he could see in Tony’s eyes that he was too, but holding his husband’s hand as they cradled the forming embryos of their children, he felt the most shining hope for the future he had ever had.  It was uncertain, and bound to be dangerous, but Steve had fought all his life.  He had fought so hard to be here right now.  All of his fighting was paying off.  He was going to have his family.

 

He pulled Tony a little closer.

 

Soon enough, he would have two others to pull into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> El Fin!
> 
> Tell me what you think!


End file.
